Lest You Forget
by JannP
Summary: "Back then I told you-if you'd fall, I'd fall too."  Rachel left and made something of herself, but did she leave Finn behind? And is he really ready for her to come back and say things?  AU/Future eventually maybe Finchel.  Up-rated to M.
1. Just Ignore It

_**A/N: **__This story idea hit me like a freight train and it won't go away. I don't know how many parts it will be other than to say many—which is not what I need to do considering the sheer volume of stories I have in progress. Sorry. I'm taking some major musical liberties here, too, but I'll get into all that later so I don't ruin the story. It'll all be revealed in time. All you need to know for now is that this is AU after Original Song. The rest will be explained. I'm going to rate it T for now but it will probably end up getting bumped up to M when we hit the main action because you all know by now how I can't control my sailor's mouth.  
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_Major thanks to **Paceismyhero**. Lizzie, you are such a huge support while I'm writing and I know I'm needy and it means you're rarely surprised by anything I post. You rock my socks. Also to the other group I've stumbled into – you guys are awesome and I'm having so much fun. _

_**Disclaimer: **__ I don't own Glee or any of the other things I'm blatantly ripping off. No harm or infringement is intended._

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><p><strong>Lest You Forget (I'll Write This Down)<strong>

**Prologue: Just Ignore It**

Finn sighed as he took in her small form, curled up tightly on the couch. She always tried to wait up for him and it never worked. He kind of wondered why she bothered, even as he acknowledged himself that it was kind of sweet even as it was totally impractical; band rehearsal often went until eleven or even later like tonight. He rubbed a hand over his close-cropped hair and flicked a glance to the television. How could she stand to watch that crap?

He smirked. Obviously she couldn't. That's why she was asleep.

He crossed the small room in two long strides before he pulled the remote from the arm of the couch. Even as he pointed it at the television, though, he heard something familiar. It took his brain a second to catch up with his ears, but it was like a radio tuning to the closest station. Eventually the static drifted away the sound he heard was very clear. Instead of turning the volume down, he turned it up a little bit, with a careful glance to make sure Quinn didn't stir.

It was amazing that her voice was clear as a bell to him now, even through the scratchy and muted television speakers, and even though she was singing backup for some guy. It seemed really weird to hear her singing backup, but it was more like a duet. Either way, he never expected to hear Rachel Berry's voice on the stupid shows Quinn watched to 'unwind' from her rough day at work.

His eyes flicked over to the clock on the stove in the darkened room, wondering if he could call her. It was close to midnight, but the last time he had talked to Rachel, her run had just been extended. He squinted as he strained to remember how long ago that had been. It had been when she called for Kurt's birthday and they happened to be in the middle of brunch as a family—so that would've been in February. Now it was April. He sighed and realized he had no idea if the show was still going. She usually at least emailed when something major happened, and he hadn't seen anything about her starting a run of some kind in London or anything. Either way, midnight wouldn't be too late to call if she had finished a show.

His gaze shifted back to Quinn. He probably ought to at least make sure she got to bed before anything else. Once she fell asleep like this, she wasn't going to wake up. He could start pounding the skins that were sitting five feet away from her and she would continue on. Nope, he would have to carry her into their room, right on schedule.

He picked up the nothing of his slender girlfriend and tried not to laugh as she curled into him and murmured something in her sleep. She almost always talked when he picked her up on these nights and sometimes the results were pretty damn hilarious, honestly. Plus she refused to believe she did it, which was kind of an added bonus. The most recent one that had made him laugh until he almost dropped her was _No, Puck, don't give me herpes. _ He was kind of waiting for something to top that. It looked like he would probably have to wait at least one more night.

Finn got her settled into bed, never really feeling like his presence even made a difference to her. It was easy enough to shrug off that feeling, though, and he pulled the door closed behind him as he came out of the bedroom. He didn't even make it to the couch before he was palming his cell phone out of his jeans pocket and keying through the contact list to find Rachel's number.

He rubbed his hand over his head one more time and dropped down onto the couch, hearing the well-worn and tired squeak from the second-hand furniture. If his band got a record deal, the first thing he was doing was buying a new couch. Seriously. It was a miracle this thing hadn't collapsed yet.

The phone rang three times before she answered, her voice just as sunny as ever. He fought the urge to smile; Rachel had always been such a morning person that he'd wondered a time or two if she'd had trouble adjusting to performing six nights a week. He should've known she'd be just fine.

"Hi, Finn!" She said. "Did someone die?"

He laughed out loud, unable to fight the bubble of humor in his chest. He sighed when it popped with his laugh and washed over him in a warm wave. "Hi, Rach. No, no one died. I'm glad you'd be so happy about it, though."

"I'm glad to talk to you," she said and suddenly whatever was going on behind her was gone. It was replaced with a hissing sound that he thought might be the wind. "Why are you calling so late, though?"

"Where are you?"

"New York," she said brightly. "And you?"

"Columbus," he said, unable to dampen the smile. _She was drunk_. Was it bad he could tell just from her voice? When they only talked every few months?

"That's good," she said simply. "We finished our run tonight. I'm at the cast party now."

"Ah," he said simply. "This is all making a little more sense."

"I don't have a job tomorrow," she whispered. Somewhere underneath the vast amounts of gushy drunk girl, he could hear the worry. "What am I going to do without a job?"

"Well, you should get royalties or something because I swear I heard you singing in a song on some stupid television show." He lowered his voice a little as he shifted on the couch. "That should at least…I dunno. Buy you a cup of coffee or something, right?"

She sighed. "Wait…what?"

"I _know_ I heard your voice. That's why I called."

"Was this an old show, maybe? I haven't heard anything…" she said. "Maybe my publicist forgot to tell me?"

He shrugged even though he knew she couldn't see it. "Maybe? I have no idea old or new. It was something Quinn had on her DVR. She fell asleep watching it."

"Oh. It was probably the one from a couple of weeks ago, then." She said easily. "You picked my voice up in all that? I mean… it played during a mass casualty incident with shooting and bodies if it's the one I'm thinking."

He sighed, and with that the smile he couldn't lose before was now gone. He swallowed hard. "Yeah. It's like a gift or something. I can always…." He blew out a breath. There were some things you didn't say out loud. Not to ex-girlfriends who had left you behind a long time ago to make their way in the big, bad world.

And it occurred to him that, for as much as they'd stayed in touch, he didn't know which of the drunk girl archetypes she fell into now. For the first time in a long time, he felt a stab of longing. He wanted to be there. He wanted to see her at a bar in New York. He wanted to see her in New York.

Hell, he just wanted to see her.

They had gone into the city to see her play last fall. She had landed a major role. It wasn't the lead, it was more like she was just off from center stage, but it was a big deal. They hadn't made it for opening night, but instead for a night in the middle of the week just after the show opened. They had gone to dinner the night before, she showed them around a little bit, but it was nothing more than an extended weekend when he'd called in sick-but-not-really-sick-but-maybe-lovesick-over-his-ex.

Still, that was almost seven months ago. It didn't seem right that he hadn't seen in her seven months. Well…other than the picture her publicist put on Twitter when the play was extended. And the picture of her and some guy in a tabloid after she'd won a small recurring role on some lawyer show (and then she was _everywhere_ for a few weeks but it seemed to have died down).

"Wait…didn't I read somewhere that you have a boyfriend? Maybe he can help you out."

Shut up. He tried really hard to keep it from sounding bitter because really…what right did he have at this point? And he knew it.

"I don't have a boyfriend," she muttered. "I don't have anyone, Finn." She sounded a whole lot less bubbly than she had when she answered and he hated that he always seemed to do that to her.

"Well then maybe you should come back home for a while. You have people here."

"Maybe." She sighed. "That's a good idea. It's been a long time since I was home. Since…"

"Since we were graduating from college and you officially moved out of your house."

"Yeah," she said softly. "Wow…has it really been _that_ long?"

His eyes ticked up, like they were trying to physically search his memory for him. Rachel had been lingering in his room when he got home from school that afternoon; they had both come home for the weekend to really clear things out before they graduated college and started their "real" jobs. She attended his graduation on the following Wednesday at Ohio State and yeah, that had been the last time he had seen her in Ohio. He had already started his job when she walked with her class from Julliard and had only attended in pictures and the video her dads had proudly displayed (when he asked, but that was hardly worth mentioning). The other times… well, she'd done a show that stopped in Indianapolis with Broadway Across America and then his trip to New York and that was…that was it? Those were the only times he'd seen her…hugged her…smelled her… in the last four years?

Four years.

"I think you should come home for a while," he repeated. His voice was low and it almost cracked. "I miss you."

"Well, you live two hours away though," she protested. "And do I really need to point out that you live with another girl—a girl who has been less than approving of me in the past?"

Finn sighed. In that regard, he wasn't sure what had happened other than _life_ had happened. He and Rachel hadn't been in the same place at the same time since high school and she had been a whirlwind of unsettled activity, even when she was in college. Her travel schedule had been enough to send anyone that wanted to see her spinning. She had almost never returned home and that had certainly not changed.

He, on the other hand, had started at the Lima extension of Ohio State and then walked onto the football team during his sophomore year. He hadn't gone any further than Columbus, and now he was basically settled there even as his band was trying to go somewhere else.

The thing with Quinn had been on and off. There had been other girls—sort of. At least, that was until they ended up teaching at the same school in Columbus. Small, small world.

"I'm sure that's all water under… the whatever. I'm not that close to any bridges."

She laughed out loud. "I think I'm close enough to major ones for both of us."

"So cross one and come home. Even the same state is better than nothing."

"I'll think about it," she admitted. "Maybe I can do some more writing. I need the royalty checks to fund my raging Starbucks addiction."

It was his turn to laugh out loud and then change the subject. "So yeah, who was this guy? I liked that song. I'll go buy it."

Rachel sighed. "I'm not sure you want to do that, Finn."

"Why?"

There was a long pause. "I-I'm sorry. I have to go so I can get back inside. I'll email you in a couple days and let you know if I'm going to make it back home. Maybe we can meet in the middle or something."

"I'll pick you up at the airport," he offered. Even though it was late and probably wrong on some level, he didn't want the conversation to end or the connection to be gone. He'd kind of forgotten how nice it was just to talk to her.

"Okay," she said quietly. They said their brief goodnights and she hung up the phone before she twisted to lean against the brick façade of the building. Even though her phone was still in her hand, she rubbed her hands over her face. He had a way of appearing in her life again when she had hundreds of questions with no answers. Something had always pulled one of them away, but maybe…maybe this time would be different.

Rachel had written three or four of the songs on the album he had talked about buying and one of them was written directly to him. She hadn't even sung backup on the song but it would be immediately obvious to him that she had written it and that it was _about_ him. It was her 23-year-old way of begging him to come find her and finally, finally start on the life they deserved.

But that had been years ago now, almost four years to be exact, and she had shelved the song for a long time because she honestly wasn't sure she was ready for him to hear it—and she knew he had never been ready to hear what she had to say. Had that really changed? Could it be that the day she'd been waiting for while she worked her guts out was finally coming? What if she wasn't ready for it?

She blew out a long breath. No. There was no way. Quinn had gotten it right. Quinn had gotten him. They lived together and, though she hadn't heard any announcements, they had been together for so long that she wondered _when_ rather than _if._ No, it was probably better Finn didn't hear the song. She didn't want him to buy the album. Regardless of want though, it was, as always, out of her hands now. She had long ago stopped fighting battles she couldn't control the outcome of, and when it came to things like love… well, she didn't actually need it to survive and she had never been able to control it. Instead, she chose to ignore its very existence. Maybe not a romantic idea for a songwriter, but six nights a week she performed other people's stories and other people's songs anyway.

She was going to call her equity rep tomorrow and get a list of auditions. That was the first priority because at this point in her life, it had to be. Then she would decide about what she was going to do as far as getting home and _going_ home, which as always, seemed to be two different things.


	2. The Two Saddest Words in the World

_**A/N: **__ Thanks again to Lizzie (__**Paceismyhero **__) for her assistance with this part. The character names, the chapter title – it's all you, woman. Oh, and yes, I'm a Dawson's Creek fan. Why would you ask? Thanks also goes to everyone reading and replying. The replies on this so far have been awesome. I'm totally blown away by your guys' faith in my writing. I hope this lives up to your apparently high expectations. _

_**Disclaimer: **__I don't own Glee. I don't own the songs I'm alluding to. I technically don't even own the computer I'm writing this on. How sad is that?_

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><p><strong>Chapter One: The Two Saddest Words in the World<strong>

Finn's eyes hurt. He'd been staring at the computer in the teacher's lounge for so long it felt like all the moisture had been sucked out of them; that might've had something to do with the fact that he'd been up way too late messing around and trying to figure out what song he had even heard. He was still having no luck and he couldn't actually remember any of the lyrics. It wasn't the sort of thing he could ask Quinn about without starting a stern conversation that he _really_ didn't want to have with her. Sure, it was water under the whatever and had all happened long ago but she was still sort of sensitive about Rachel. And when he brought anything with _that_ up, she always mentioned commitment and he hated that particular subject of hers even worse.

One of the other teachers came in and stopped short when she saw him. "What are you looking so hard for?"

He sighed and sat back in the office chair. It rolled back away from the desk with his motion and his eyes slipped closed. "Hey, Katie." He sighed. "A friend of mine wrote a song that I heard on a television show and now I'm trying to find it so I can buy it and really listen."

She put a hand on her hip. "Well, there are about a hundred questions _that_ spawns," she said. She considered which one to ask for a second before she plowed ahead. "I'm assuming it was Quinn's show. Why not just ask her?" She then moved to the fridge and pulled the door open before she ducked to look inside.

"Well…it's a long story," he dodged. He really didn't feel the need to rehash the last decade of his life over lunch, even if Katie was unusually sharp and almost always provided insight (whether it was asked for or not).

"Okay, then if this friend is so close, why not just call him and ask?" She had pulled up a clear plastic container with one hand and was still rooting around for something else in the door of the fridge. Her mind wasn't entirely on the question as she tossed it out there but his answer commanded her full attention.

"Her," he admitted quietly.

"_Oh_." Katie breathed. She'd found what she was looking for and grabbed it anyway, so she closed the fridge and came over to sit by him. This was where her usual sense of life doom came into play. "And Quinn doesn't particularly care for this friendship."

"That's the understatement of all time. Quinn is _still_ totally weird about Rachel even though… well, even though Rachel isn't here anymore and she hasn't been for a long, long time."

"Have you kept in touch with Rachel?"

Finn offered an awkward shrug. "Kind of. She's not on my speed dial or anything, but… we email. We talk occasionally. She's friends with my stepbrother, too, and they squeal like girls whenever he's in New York."

"Wait," Katie said, holding up her hand. "Is this the girl you blew off work to go visit?"

Finn just nodded. "Quinn went with me."

Katie's voice was quiet. "Maybe, but you were all smiley for weeks after that, you know. And it wasn't really hard to figure out that…."

"That what?"

Katie finally shook her head and stood up, taking the bottle of salad dressing and the small plastic takeout container with her. "No. I'm not going to do this. I swore I would stop being, like, the way I am with this stuff. Good luck finding the song."

"Kate, c'mon. Just….I can tell you the whole story if you really want me to—I guess."

"Ah, but that's just it. You're reluctant about it and I'm not going to pry it out of you. I'm leaving. I only have fifteen minutes to eat anyway because the copier was broken and I need to run some stuff off before science this afternoon."

She was already leaving and he felt his chance to get perspective rapidly slipping away. He needed someone to tell him what was going on with him because he had no idea. But all he could really do was to go back and keep looking for the song, still fighting not to call Rachel and just ask her what it was.

Finn sighed. Katie was the friend he _wanted_ to actually talk to about all this stuff. He wasn't attracted to her in the slightest (and her extremely large, stern husband might've had more than a little to do with that), but she gave him good advice. It was based on her friendship alone that he'd secured a teaching contract three years ago and based on her friendship that he'd formed a band (with her stern, large husband who was a bass player). The band was doing well, their friendship was doing well, and she had this way of verbally smacking him in the face that was much appreciated even if it stung for a while at first.

And no, it hadn't escaped his notice that not once in three years of friendship—even friendship as a foursome with Quinn and the stern husband, Josh—had Katie ever pressured him into marrying Quinn. She was quite possibly the only married one out of the gossiping old bitties they worked with at Montrose Elementary that _hadn't_ brought up the topic. She was also the one of the few who hadn't offered to hook up with him on the down low. He shuddered a little bit at the thought.

No, he had kept all these secrets and all this stuff about Rachel and feelings and whatever to himself for so long. He wondered if now and if Katie weren't the perfect storm that would make him spill. And then maybe she could tell him what to do, even if she'd sworn she wouldn't do that again after the ill-advised cat buying incident.

He stared at the computer for one long second before he exited out of all the browser windows. He knew what Katie was talking about with the copier and he probably should've been on his way to head her off at the pass, submitting his own needs before she could get there, because they were _team_ _teaching_ the damn assignment to their fifth grade classes. But what the hell ever. He turned and veered toward her classroom instead.

She always ate lunch in there, said she preferred that to the teacher's lounge. Much like he had been repeatedly asked out by some of the grosser staff members, she had been subject to a lot of harassment based on the fact that her husband was on the coaching staff with Ohio State football. Everyone wanted something from him, and so wanted something from her, during football season. It didn't make for easy friendships and even though football season was over, she still ate in her classroom.

There she was, only sort of visible through the paper-mache globes hanging from the light fixtures by string. His class was doing those tomorrow and he wasn't looking forward to it—mostly because he'd hung all of hers by hand thanks to his height. It was always good to avoid taking a ladder into a class full of ten and eleven year olds who would find a way to rip it out from underneath you. And anyway, tying those strings had been a real bitch and he had almost ten more kids in his class than she did.

"Okay, well… what if I actually _want_ you to give me advice?" He asked, no further preamble necessary. He dropped down into the green plastic chair that sat opposite her desk, always poised and ready to hold the adult parent of a troublemaking student. God only knows she'd had plenty of those in her class this year. The chair had become a permanent fixture. He was grateful for it in that moment.

"It's not going to involve me and Josh and a weekend of repainting and retiling your bathroom after the demon cat from hell gutted the room again, is it?"

He laughed out loud. It was totally a story for the future. At least now it was starting to be a _funny_ story. "Probably not."

"How long is this going to take?"

Finn sighed and looked at her. "Well, I have to make the same stupid copies. So if you let me do this, I'll send one of the sick kids down to stand in line for both of our copies during baseball after lunch."

She laughed. "There's something very wrong with that, but fine. Shoot."

His glance melted into something altogether more serious. He took a second to rub at his tired eyes before he plunged in.

"Rachel is…" he sighed. "Well, she's like some weird combination of my high school sweetheart and the one who got away."

Katie put down her fork and tilted her head. That was enough to totally suck her into the conversation and she could barely even plan how she would try to finish eating her salad during the 15-minute post-lunch reading/quiet time. "Okay. Go on."

"Rachel made me join glee club. Well…okay. That's a long story. But really, she made me want to join glee club."

Katie snorted. "I'm sorry…what? You were _that_ guy?"

"Hey!" He said sharply, even though he was grinning. "I was also the quarterback _and_ captain of the basketball team. I could still kick your ass." She just shook her head and chuckled as he continued. "Anyway, she was…amazing. Seriously amazing. She wanted to be on Broadway and if there was ever anyone we knew would do it and get out of that stupid cow town… well, it was her. Except she has these big, beautiful brown eyes and…and this huge heart and…"

"And you totally fell in love with the choir geek even though you were the 'big man on campus'."

"Something like that, even if I don't like your tone," he said. He sighed. "Long story short, Quinn and I were dating then and—"

Her snort cut him off. "Wait, _what_?" Her eyebrows went up in disbelief. "You're still dating the same girl you dated in high school?"

"Shut up. Not exactly. Only sort of." He cleared his throat. "It ended…badly. That's all I'm going to say about that. She really screwed me over and it took me forever to feel like I could forgive her and there was Rachel during the in-between. And _that_ was the…it was the best. We were still young and dumb and we totally screwed things up. Mostly her, but both of us did a lot of stupid things. And then… well, I thought maybe we were right there again. I knew I missed her, I knew I loved her, and she wrote this song."

Katie's eyebrows came together. "She wrote you a song?"

"Yeah, told you. _Choir girl_." He cleared his throat. "She wrote this amazing song and… well, I was already sort of back with Quinn by then and I was so confused and so… and then she was just gone. Somehow some record producer heard the song she wrote when she performed it at a glee competition and one thing lead to another and then she was gone."

"One thing lead to another? I'm sure there are more details there."

Finn sighed. "She basically got a record deal. I mean, it wasn't that simple. She had to write a few more songs and make a demo, which she did, and then they asked her about moving to Los Angeles to make an actual record. It was just our junior year, but she was super smart and had always wanted to go to Julliard so… she had everything she needed to graduate early and that's what she did. By the summer after junior year, she was gone to L.A. to make her record and we were all still finishing high school without her and it just sucked."

"Have I heard of her?" Katie asked, sitting back in her chair. The metal poles creaked a little with the change in weight and the sound ripped through the room like a knife. She had never seen Finn this intense, really, which was saying_ a lot_. He was all about the quiet glares, the loaded glances, and not so much about the words. Until they came spilling out—either when he was drunk or on some sort of emotional overload. She sighed. During school hours, she would definitely go with the latter.

"Maybe. Her album did okay. She toured as like, the opening act for an opening act, and it was all for some band that sucked and I can't remember what their name was. Some emo-pop bullshit." He bit his lip a little bit. "I really missed her. Everything sucked after she left and I…I kept in touch with her even though it just about killed me. She was off living her life and she was so busy and it was everything she wanted and I…well, I just wanted _her_, I guess."

"God, were you still with Quinn through all of this?" Katie's eyes narrowed. "Because I can see how she would have a _huge_ problem with the girl."

Finn shrugged. "We were on and off. There were other people, other boys for her and other girls for me and I was really busy anyway." His voice got very quiet, his head dropped down, and he took a long breath. "I was working my ass off to get into school in New York."

"Why?"

"Rachel still went to Julliard. She delayed her entrance for a couple years, but she was still going there. Even though we didn't talk much it was still just…I just knew that was her plan. So my plans kind of changed and lined up and…" he swallowed down the bitter disappointment that followed. Feeling it now was _nothing_ compared to what he had felt then, but it was still one of the worst things he'd ever had to deal with. "…And then it didn't work out. I couldn't do it. Ohio State was as far as I could get. I didn't get into school in New York. Rachel did."

"So that was then. What about now?"

He sighed. "Now… well, Rachel is up for a Tony for her role in a play that just closed. It's not quite what she was after because it's an ensemble award, but it will open up other doors for her and…she's _so_ happy. I'm happy for her. Quinn is happy if Rachel stays away and Quinn being happy makes my life about a thousand times better." He shrugged. "I just think I would feel better, like maybe less confused and stuff, if I could just hear that song again. Everything would make sense again and I could just get back to my life."

"Well…if you know she wrote it, it would be listed under her name somewhere. Google is all about cross-referencing like that. It's all connected. You probably don't need to ask Quinn anything about the show. And if you would feel better, you should do that. Life doesn't work when it's all about wondering 'what if'. You have to make your present the best place it can be and then _live_ it." Katie sighed and reached down to her feet for her purse. She brought the worn leather black hole into her lap and rooted around for a second until she came up with her phone. "What's her last name?"

"Berry. Like the fruit."

Katie nodded even as she dropped the purse carelessly then kicked it under the void space under her desk drawers. She used her free hand to access the web browser and type "Rachel Berry" into the subject line.

"What're you doing?"

"I don't have all day for this shit," Katie said simply. "And you're going to be no good to me during the science lab if you don't find what you're looking for." After another minute, she turned her phone toward him and he reached across the desk to accept it. "There's the song. It's on an album. I suggest you just go buy the whole damn thing. _Right now_."


	3. Huge Opportunity

_**A/N: **__This story has taken over my life. I hope you are all enjoying it as much as I am and as addicted to it as I am. I have to admit, I know I'm playing with time here in kind of an awkward way. The movie Tangled, at this point, would be a decade plus old. Just know this: I can't predict the future. So I guess I'm implying they're older but I'm setting it kind of now because I'm familiar with now. If we can watch Glee without focusing on this stuff, it should work for my fic, too right? Okay._

_Thank you to the girls who have helped, hand-held, and encouraged. You are all awesome._

_**Disclaimer: **__I don't own Glee, Tangled, or Top Gun. I do own Charlie and Cooper, but that's it. No copyrights or animals were harmed in the writing of this part._

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><p><strong>Chapter Two: Huge Opportunity<strong>

Rachel's eyes were starting to hurt. The email from her equity rep with the auditions list was simply staggering. She had kind of thought, when they announced the shutdown of the run two weeks ago, that she would be out of luck for the spring musical thing. It seemed like most of them were either already starting their limited engagement press runs or at least heavily into auditions. She had been very, very wrong about that. It would've been relieving if it weren't so daunting. Her coffee was now cold because she'd been staring at the calendar and the list in a back-and-forth for so long.

She sighed and finally turned away from her laptop, hell bent on at least eating some breakfast before she returned to the list. Okay, so maybe it was really lunch and maybe it would consist of toast because she wasn't sure she could hold anything else down. Saying she had overindulged at the party last night was an understatement—saying she had drunken herself into oblivion after her conversation with Finn was probably a little more accurate. She had woken up in her own bed, with the proper clothes all in the proper places but she still wasn't a hundred percent sure how she'd gotten there. She thought it entirely possible that she had her co-supporting star, Cooper, to thank.

Was there such a thing as writer's remorse? Because she'd heard of, and maybe even felt, buyer's remorse. This seemed like the same kind of thing. Bought an ugly sweater off the clearance rack for way too much money? Invested in an apartment that ended up being in a bad location?

_Wrote an emotional and slightly stalkerish song for an ex, then made the mistake of putting it on an album that he said he was going to buy? _

Yes. Those were all in the same category and she was currently feeling the sting from at least one of them. Even copious amounts of gin and tonic hadn't helped. Plus, she really hated gin.

Her phone rang from somewhere in the apartment. The ringer was turned up so loud the sound reverberated through the small space before it was cut off abruptly. There was a low murmur of voices and then her roommate, Charlie, appeared. The phone was extended from her hand and she didn't even conceal her yawn before she spoke.

"Cooper wants to make sure you didn't sleep on the bathroom floor."

Rachel's eyebrows shot up in appreciation as she slowly turned and reached out for the phone. "Thanks. Why was my phone in your room?"

"Well…" Charlie propped her now-empty hand on her waist and tipped her head. "I think it might've fallen out of your purse, which is actually sitting on the floor, too. Your stuff is all over my floor. And I seem to remember something about us jumping on the bed…" she shrugged. "I don't know."

Rachel laughed. The two girls had moved in together shortly after auditions for their just-wrapped play, and it had seemed a matter of convenience at the time. In the end, though, it was a lot of fun and Rachel felt like maybe she'd finally won the roommate jackpot because Charlie encouraged her to do crazy things like jump on a bed in the middle of the night when they were so drunk they couldn't remember what they'd done in the morning. They were getting to be good friends. Rachel motioned to the toaster, Charlie nodded, and Rachel turned back to add a couple more pieces of bread as she brought the phone up to her ear.

"Hi, Cooper," she said. She tried really, really hard to drain the 'last night was rough' from her voice, but even her superior acting skills couldn't cover it.

"Hey, Ray," he said slowly. "You sound kind of rough."

"Yeah, well…" she said easily.

"Yeah, well, I know it was a rough night. That's kind of why I'm calling."

"Continue," she said, interested. She pulled the toasted bread out of the toaster and looked at it blankly. She felt a vague wave of nausea and realized her stomach might still be a little too wobbly to eat it.

"Well, I know how you get the day after. So I vote we head out to that Mexican place with the bean burritos you love and grease the hell out of our hangovers."

"_Now_?" She asked, looking doubtfully at the toast again.

"Um, no. I still need a couple hours," he said simply. "I'm looking at this audition list and the words are still blurring together."

Rachel laughed appreciatively. "I might know a little bit about that."

"I'm shocked at the sheer volume of auditions occurring, too." He said simply. "I might wait to see if we win the award just to help narrow it down a little."

Rachel wanted to nod in agreement, except she totally couldn't. She desperately needed to plan her next move if for no other reason than to keep her mind off of Finn. And damn it, there he was on her mind again. "Well that's one approach."

"I'm pretty sure it isn't _your_ approach. But invite Charlie and I'll see you down there around five, okay?"

She let in a deep breath. Cooper and Charlie… there was a good distraction from her romantic non-entanglements. Even if Cooper had asked her out first and they had made out on stage a couple of times among other things. It was in the script and scripted kissing always lacked _real_ passion. It had been a long time since real passion had actually come into play in her life. "That sounds fantastic."

"So why don't _you_ sound fantastically excited?" He asked.

Like a saving grace or a beep sent from the heavens, call waiting beeped, the void of white noise the only indication. "Oh! I'm getting another call. I'll see you soonish."

He muttered his goodbye, and she knew he wouldn't be pleased about her stealthy escape from the hard question. He had this knack for reading her that was really unnerving. She clicked over to the other call, not even checking the number it was coming for before she greeted the welcome caller.

"Hey, Rachel, it's Laney. I have some huge news for you."

Laney was her equity rep. Rachel was listening. "Really?" She squealed.

"Yes. Matt Jones is working on a stage production of Tangled and he specifically wants _you_."

"Tangled? Like the Disney movie?" Rachel asked in confusion. She looked down at herself. Even all dressed up, she was not exactly the right person to play Rapunzel of any kind.

"Yes," Laney confirmed. "And I'm sure I know what you're thinking. And I know you deserve a starring role, but…he wants you to be Mother Gothel. And he's right. You would absolutely steal the show. He wants you to help him write the part, adapt the music, and he wants to give you co-writing credit, which kind of offsets the—"

"Where?" Rachel asked. She scanned the fuzzy list in her mind from the earlier email. There had been nothing about this on it, she was sure.

"West End." Laney said. "It's all AE approved and…seriously. This is a _huge_ opportunity."

"When is the audition?" Rachel asked, her mind already spinning with dates and visits home and Finn and seeing Finn and now the possibility that she might not _have_ to see him as he realized what she'd meant, plus there was all the credit that could come with originating a major role even if it wasn't the starring role and… her mind was just spinning.

"He wants you in person in London by the end of next month. He didn't actually know about the show closing when he sent me the email last week."

Rachel bit her lip. That gave her nearly six weeks—certainly long enough to sort out any confusion and plus long enough to help Charlie make roommate arrangements. "Okay. I'll call Jane and have her schedule my flights."

"I can do that. I'll run it through the agency and you can just pay us when your residuals hit."

Rachel nodded, but realized that gave her _a lot_ longer to be in Ohio than she wanted. Maybe. "Okay. And thank you, Laney."

"Welcome. I'll submit your interest form and… well, it's all just a formality. You have people asking for you, Rachel. This is amazing."

"Agreed. And thank you." She said simply. She couldn't wipe the smile off her face as she hung up the phone.

If there was one thing her chat with Finn last night had clarified, it was that she deserved a little bit of a break. She had been working, in one form or another, for ten years straight. She needed to go home and visit her dads. She needed to work everything out. She had been handed a window in which to do that without somehow derailing her professional life. She was nothing if not an opportunist. And this was, to echo her rep's words, a _huge_ opportunity. The question was how she could make the most of it and, to answer that, she needed to decide what she really wanted.

Did she even still _want_ Finn? Or was she so caught up in the romantic, idealized version of him and what they had been to each other that she was missing the bigger picture? It had been a really long time since they were together. Even that hadn't _really_ ended on the best of terms. Their breakup had been very messy, very emotional, and it had wrought a huge toll on her. In a lot of ways, the songwriting had been her saving grace…his saving grace…_their_ saving grace. She wasn't so sure they would've made it through all of that with their friendship intact if it hadn't been for her departure.

She looked down blankly at the dry toast that was sitting on a plate and she sighed. It had been a busy five minutes. Another wave of hangover-induced nausea rolled through her; she wasn't eating that. She would wait for dinner and stick with water until then.

Rachel and Charlie arrived at the restaurant a little more than two hours later. Cooper was easy to spot; he was the only guy at a table with three margaritas in front of him.

"Hey, Coop," Rachel said with a smirk, greeting him even as she slid onto the vinyl bench.

"Hey, Ray," he said simply. "Charles."

Charlie rolled her eyes, dropping into her spot next to Rachel even as Rachel slipped the narrow purse strap from her shoulder and settled into the seat. "That joke just never gets old."

Cooper slid one of the margaritas in front of her. "Yeah, well…at least it comes with a drink this time."

Charlie laughed and Cooper reached to slide another of the drinks in front of Rachel.

"So we're subscribing to the official Cooper Reynolds method of hangover avoidance?" Rachel asked, raising and eyebrow and her glass at the same time.

"That's right," he said simply. "Keep on drinking."

Rachel swallowed, grimacing just a little on the tart lime flavor of the strong drink.

"Besides, maybe Rachel will open up about what's been bugging her since she stepped out of the party to take a phone call last night," Cooper said. "She just needs incentive," he started, then lowered his voice. "And margaritas are always incentive for her to talk."

She sighed and shot him an annoyed glance. Well…she was aiming for annoyance but he probably knew her too well for that. "As long as you aren't trying to give me incentive to do other things."

He rolled his eyes. "Please. We've treaded into the hallowed ground of fucking when we were both too drunk to do it decently. Let's not go there again."

Rachel picked up her drink and took a long pull even as she eyed him suspiciously. She wasn't exactly proud of the fact that she'd done something as trite as hooking up with her co-star (or worse, her friend), but she was upset and as he'd already pointed out, they were both very, very drunk and they had brushed over it with a brief 'not gonna happen again' sort of conversation the last time. Finn and Quinn had just been in town for a visit then, and she had been about fifteen kinds of confused and destroyed and…_when did they start living together…_

Cooper had been there for her, or at least willing to keep buying her drinks. He was a nice guy, a good friend, and he was actually a really good kisser, even if the kisses lacked passion on stage. It had seemed like an okay idea and then…then it had occurred to her that it was actually a very bad idea. How did she never seem to learn that she couldn't cover up heartache with a physical connection?

She drank faster and Cooper raised an eyebrow. As she set the empty glass down on the table, he broke out into a wide smile and then reached his arm up to wave and get their waiter's attention.

"So it's one of _those _things," Charlie said. As Cooper placed their refill orders, Charlie turned to Rachel. "Maybe you do need to talk about it."

Rachel sighed and let her fingertip dance over rim of the empty glass. She had missed a random trail of salt and she felt the crunchy texture under her fingers even as she felt the pressure from Charlie's gaze.

"It isn't that I have a problem telling either of you," Rachel said simply. "It's just a really, really long story. And it's kind of embarrassing for me."

"I've seen you naked, there is no embarrassment left," Cooper said without thinking, but it just took a few seconds for his thoughts to catch up with his mouth. "Oh, God! Wait! That is _not_ what I meant!"

Rachel burst out in a laugh. "Likewise," she said simply. He knew the alcohol was already working because she didn't launch into a rant about how she was the best he'd ever had. Even if he commented and then she ranted, they _still_ weren't talking about it seriously and it was for the best. They were definitely not meant to be _like that_. They both knew it.

There were a few moments of distraction from the conversation as the waiter returned with their drink refills and took dinner orders. Once the server was gone, though, it was immediately obvious Rachel had no intention of squirming out of the conversation. She carefully unwrapped the straw she had ignored before and placed it in the drink, using the small clinking sounds of the ice cubes against the glass to time her breathing and to try finding a good place to start.

"I guess for you to really understand my behavior, both last night and on the phone this afternoon, you would have to know about Finn."

Charlie and Cooper exchanged a glance, but Rachel didn't even notice.

"He's like some over-dramatic combination of a high school sweetheart and the one that got away." After that brief explanation, she pulled the straw to her mouth and took a long sip of the drink. Once she had swallowed and licked her lips, she continued. "I fell in love with the star quarterback, but the trouble was that I had been cut from an entirely different cloth than he was. He was handsome and popular and…he's just…" she sighed. "He's still kind of like that, you know?"

Charlie and Cooper scowled at each other. Granted, they (Charlie at the least because Cooper and had been in and out of Rachel's life since college) hadn't necessarily known Rachel that long, exactly, but they had never heard of this guy.

"So…if he's so dreamy…where is he now?" Cooper asked. He tipped his now-empty glass all the way back and sucked a piece of ice into his mouth to crunch.

"He's in Ohio. He lives in Columbus with his girlfriend—who told me she would end up with him, by the way." Rachel sighed, letting herself take one more long drink before her second glass was already empty. "Guess she was right."

"Oh, honey…" Charlie said simply. "That doesn't sound like you _at all_."

Rachel looked directly at her. "Well, that's part of the problem. I'm not exactly myself when I'm with him." Her voice dropped down. "I'm better. I wear my heart on my sleeve and he reminds me that other people have hearts, too and…"

Charlie tilted her head to the side. "I'm sorry, but Rachel? If you can't be yourself when you're with him, where is the appeal in that? You're pretty all right. And I know that not enough people have told you that before, but… seriously."

"He did," Rachel said softly. "He and I… we had this relationship that was just too grown up to handle. We did some really stupid things, we really hurt each other and then we were right on the verge of all the possibility of forgiving one another and moving on together and then I left. I got a record deal, I got emancipated, and I moved to Los Angeles. But I still can't just let him go."

"As long as you don't have a shrine to him in your room," Cooper intoned. "Or a voo-doo doll in your purse."

Rachel laughed. Her cheeks were starting to turn red. The waiter had just brought her third margarita and some chips and salsa for them to snack on, but it was clear the snack had not arrived in time and the two strong drinks were hitting her first.

"No, nothing like that." Rachel said simply. She cracked a tortilla chip down the middle just to watch it break before she continued speaking. "Well, then last night I guess he heard that song that was on television a couple weeks ago. He recognized my voice _on the show_."

"Didn't that play during a shooting?" Charlie asked.

"Beside the point," Rachel said sharply, looking over at Charlie with a repressed smile smirking across her face.

"No, not beside the point. He _recognized your voice_? On a song you sang backup on? That was on a television show?"

"Maybe we should check him for voo-doo dolls, too," Cooper said seriously. "As your intimidating ex…umm…something, I vote myself the right to meet this guy and make sure you two aren't going to make international headlines when you disappear on your honeymoon cruise."

Charlie and Rachel both gawked at him. Half of his diatribe had been distracted, slightly drunken muttering. But the other half…well, it was just disturbing.

"Your mind is a cesspool," Charlie groaned before she turned back to Rachel. "Anyway _my_ point, before it got hijacked, was that it _says_ something. Maybe you aren't as dead and gone to him as you thought."

Rachel sighed. She was looking inside her drink now, even as she arranged the broken chip into different patterns on the table in front of her. She took a quick drink and then returned to the tortilla mosaic. "I guess my point got hijacked, too. He called me to tell me that he heard it. That's the phone call I got last night."

Satisfied with the abstract picture she had made out of the first course, she looked back up at Cooper. "I really miss him, you guys. He pointed out to me that it's been _four years_ since I went home."

Charlie laughed. "Can you go home for me too, then? You're probably the first person I know here that's ever said that with like, the actual desire to go home."

"Don't get me wrong, I couldn't wait to get out of there," Rachel said softly.

She was interrupted from speaking further when Cooper snorted. "Clearly."

Rachel and Charlie both looked up sharply and Rachel replied. "Hey! For all the bad things that happened, there were some good things, too. My dads are great—"

"—they really are—" Charlie interjected with a nod. The Berry daddies had come out and stayed with them over Hanukkah last season and had gotten along famously with Rachel's bubbly roommate.

"—and then there's Kurt and…and Finn."

"_Wait a minute," _Charlie whispered with a click. "Is Finn the brother Kurt refers to? And always gives you that puppy dog look when he says anything?"

Rachel nodded and took another drink through her straw.

"Wow. Rachel Berry—heartbreaker," Charlie said with an appreciative undertone. "I mean, I've left my fair share of men high and dry but you…"

Cooper looked back and forth between the girls. He had been busy working when Rachel's friend was in town for New Year's Eve so he had missed meeting the man entirely. It had made him a little sad, sure. It sounded like they'd had fun although he had seen an unusual amount of both feathers and sequins in the girls' apartment afterward. He frowned. "You're a heartbreaker?" Cooper asked Rachel seriously. "Because I never would've guessed."

"Stop," Rachel commanded. Her voice wasn't entirely serious, though. "I'm not. And I think he might've broken my heart just as much. Honestly, it was just…just _circumstance._ We have two totally different lives. That hasn't changed." Her phone was emitting a pitiful ring from the bottom of her purse and she reached absently for it as it continued. "Honestly, I don't know if it's going to. We might be well-matched as far as personalities go, but the rest is just life and…

She frowned; her phone was playing "Defying Gravity", which _never_ failed to set Charlie off. It didn't fail this time either, but Rachel was too focused on Kurt's name as she slid the little green answer button on her phone from one side of the screen to the other.

Cooper was didn't know the words, but that didn't necessarily stop him from joining in. The ruckus was so loud, combined with the background noise of the restaurant, that Rachel had to plug one finger into her open ear as she pressed the phone to the other.

"Hello?" She asked.

"Hey, Diva," Kurt said simply. "You've got some explaining to do because I can't decipher what Finn is saying."

Rachel frowned. "What?"

"There's something about a song and you and…he threatened to show up on my doorstep tomorrow morning. Something happened, but…but I don't know," Kurt said. "Do you have any idea what this could be about?"

She did. She had a very good idea what it could be about. In fact, she _knew _what it was about and she knew Kurt had a rough idea too if Finn was threatening to show up on his doorstep that was _five hours away from him in Chicago_.

It was about a picture. It was about a promise and a song and a thousand things that were probably rolling through Finn's mind. He wasn't always the quickest guy, exactly, but he could put things together well enough—especially where she was concerned. And that song, that album, she had left fingerprints all over it. _His _fingerprints; _their_ fingerprints. It was a thousand little things that only they would have any idea about.

"Ye-yeah," Rachel stammered.

"Tell Charlie and whoever else to shut up because I can't hear you and they do this _every time_ I call," he said sharply, but his voice wasn't necessarily unkind. "This is important."

Rachel pulled the receiver away from her mouth a little bit and dropped her hand from her ear to cover the mic. "Guys, cut it out."

"Goose—she's lost that lovin' feeling," Cooper said loudly.

"She's lo—No. No she's hasn't!" Charlie said in perfect time but with an all-too-feminine giggle.

Rachel rolled her eyes. Ever since Charlie had revealed the true source of her given name (well…and her nickname too), it had been an ongoing thing with the two of them. She was getting really, really sick of hearing two theater pros—who had excellent voices, by the way—sing the Righteous Brothers song so far off key it was barely recognizable.

Kurt sighed. "Can you text me or something?"

"Yeah," Rachel sighed. She looked at her now empty third drink and sighed. She was going to have to do one better.

She would have to go home and explain in person.


	4. Car Stopping Heart Pounding and Just No

_**A/N: **__ Okay, well, this is the only way I can respond to the suckage of FF when I posted the last part. I'm really hoping that's the main reason for only one review. (Thanks, __**Lizzie**__!) Maybe I'm just flattering myself. But… like… could you guys give me some extra ego stroking on this part? I kinda need it. _

_Okay, so this is the part where I totally misappropriate a song for my own use. Rachel did not write this song and I'm probably totally stepping on major toes because this song very obviously has references personal to the composer throughout. I promise this is just my way of building a story around it for characters I want to write about and yeah… no infringement or insult or anything else is intended. This song is __**Replace Me **__by __**Andrew Belle**__. He wrote it and he recorded it and he is amazing. You should listen to him if you haven't. This is not the first time I'm using his stuff, and it certainly won't be the last._

_Oh, and I totally owe, like a guest-author credit or by-line or some shit to __**Kenz **__(__**egyouppt**__). Thanks for fleshing out Finn in this part for me in the way only you can do it. (Pun intended). You are hilarious and helpful and just thanks._

_**Disclaimer: **__I don't own Glee, the cop is the only character here I own, I don't own Andrew Belle's song or his EP, __**All Those Pretty Lights**__. I took the story title from it, but again – no infringement or harm is intended._

* * *

><p><strong>Three- Heart Pounding, Car Stopping and Just No<strong>

It hadn't been a good idea, buying this album. He wanted to kick Katie for it—like maybe he could actually blame her somehow. He wanted to kick himself for thinking he could listen to it on his way home from work. The only _good_ idea he'd had was pulling over the car when he'd realized exactly _what _he had heard.

There was a stupid leftover habit he had from hanging out with Puck. Puck was a serious music fan and as such would drag Finn along every Tuesday to load up on new album releases. Then they would sit and listen to the haul afterward; Puck would put the album on "scan" and listen through the whole thing even though he only heard the first minute of each song. Even if it had been_ years_ since he and Puck had celebrated Tuesday Release Day (it had really stopped once everything was on iTunes anyway, then stopped even more when their friendship stopped), and even if they hadn't spoken at all in the last two years because Puck only kept in touch with Quinn and then only when it was related to their daughter, Finn still put the album on scan as soon as he was in the car because it was a habit. It was a bad habit brought back to life. It had not served him well in this case, because the last thing he heard from the song in the first minute of its play made his heart chug to a stop in his chest.

_I wrote the melody that brought you back to life, love. Come hear it for yourself._

He had reached down and clicked the button to go back, but when he got back to that same minute mark in the song he had felt so overwhelmed he pulled the car over to the side of the road. He sat there for a few minutes, trying to get his breathing under control and trying to figure out why ice was running through his veins. Not like, literally, but it was a feeling that had been described in some book or another and he thought it fit his present situation. He hadn't heard enough of the song to determine it was about him. There was no female voice on it, either, so he had no way of knowing without looking at the composer who had written it, but he had a feeling. _A very strong feeling_. He had a lot of feelings, actually. He liked to think he was pretty good at reading people—unless it involved babies and a hot tub, but that was an isolated incident and also ancient history and not his favorite subject. But okay, just that one line of the song sounded so much like Rachel Berry (and if he knew anyone well, it was Rachel) that he was dead certain it was a song she had written.

Was it flattering himself to think it was about him? And after all this time? The album was a couple years old, but still. That meant it had been out there for a couple of years and she just hadn't said anything. Not that he could really expect that she would, he guessed. But Rachel was never good at holding things back or keeping secrets or whatever, so that made him wonder. But wait…she…she wanted to _bring him back to life_? (Assuming the song was about him). What did that even mean? He wasn't dead. Unless he was, like, a zombie or something. And he wasn't because he was sure he'd noticed if gross chunks of decaying flesh were hanging from his face. It wasn't the sort of thing that went unnoticed. And hey, he was mostly even happy.

Well. Kind of.

He shook his head and reached out to hit play, touching the iPod wheel gently like it might shock him or explode and blow his fingers off or something (which was completely plausible and possible, right? Okay, maybe not. But whatever). Jesus, when did he get so dramatic?

_Outside your windowsill, I fell like Jack for Jill and you came tumbling after and you came tumbling after_…

Finn swallowed hard. _No way_. If she had written this song, she wouldn't talk about that first summer they were together when everything was so perfect and like some shade of golden, sunny yellow in his memory. No way she would've made that public, right? No way she would've sold that memory to someone else. But they were _outside her windowsill_ most of the time, in the pool, in her backyard, that was visible from her room. They had played splashing games and had contests to see who could hold their breath the longest (shockingly—she won. He wasn't sure she could hold _anything_ in for any length of time until then) and…even though he already knew he loved her and was sure she loved him, it had been like falling all over again. And he had gone tumbling right after her.

_So stand up for yourself…oh, my love…come stand up for yourself oh my love. Lest you forget I'll write this down._

His breath had been caught in his throat before now, but he let out a squeak, almost a protest against the song lyrics. There was a note pressed in his hand, a tiny square of paper with a gold star and her handwriting and her love and what had even _happened_ to that boy and that girl and that paper and those promises and… he could feel tears in his eyes and he hated it. He hated crying, but he couldn't help himself either. What had happened? It was ten years later and he recognized this song and that feeling and her voice but… what had happened?

His hand gripped at his hair and tugged. What _had_ happened?

_You're blaming all this on yourself, but the photograph that's on your shelf is of a younger, dumber version of myself…well anyway…_

He blinked and the tears fell out onto his cheeks. He fumbled to pause the song and then reached out and gripped the steering wheel tightly. Four years ago…four years ago he'd come home and she was in his room. She was sitting on the end of his bed, looking at a picture of them from Nationals during their junior year. That night had been so special and so fun and…he sighed. It had only been a couple of months later that everything was just gone. Gone, gone, gone…just like she was. She had been the heart and soul of that group and the heart and soul of well, him, and then she was just gone. That picture was important. He _still_ had that picture. He just kept it in his head and a drawer instead of in that frame. That frame technically held a picture of something else now, but for the life of him he couldn't remember _what_.

All he could remember was Rachel holding that frame, and Rachel looking at him with big tears in her big brown eyes and Rachel…and kissing her. _A lot_. Maybe there was nothing in that frame anymore because they had broken the glass when he practically attacked her on his bed. Then she was just…fuck. Well, that too. But then she was just _gone_ again and it hurt even worse than the first time. Or the second time. Or the th—whatever. He was losing count of how many times she'd walked away from him and it really sucked and he basically wasn't a hundred percent sure he trusted her because in the end, she always walked away.

Whoa. Life changing.

He sighed and restarted the song, and it felt a little bit like he was maybe waiting for the next punch to his stomach, the next memory that would knock the wind out of him. He didn't know remembering something that had felt so good could actually be so _bad._

_Back then I told you "If you fall, I'd fall, too." Love come swallow the key, you'll never replace me._

He wiped his cheeks with his cold, shaking hands. What the hell was this? She made him cry _in his car_ on the side of the freeway. How did she still have this power over him? He had shoved it down so far inside that he'd thought—hoped, kind of—that it was gone forever. She would marry herself a stage actor that turned out to be gay and he and Quinn would…

Would what?

The song was right. If he hadn't been sure that she wrote it before, he was dead certain now. He remembered her whispering those exact words to him more than once. She was just urging him to fall in love with her again like maybe he'd ever actually stopped loving her and it was probably a good thing he had resisted because look at where they were now.

Where _were _they? _They_ were nowhere. There was no _they_. There was only him in Columbus and her in New York. It was the way they had chosen. It was the way he had always been so afraid they would end up. They had both made mistakes, true, but they had also made _choices_. They had chosen other people and other things and that drove them apart.

How much did all that matter anymore? It was water under the whatever bridge or boat or…it was all in the past where it should just die, wasn't it? The problem was it kind of refused to die. He was sitting here pulled over on the freeway and hoping he didn't get run over by traffic. Thank God for emergency lanes, because this was an emergency. Like a big, for real, he thought he might die emergency.

Maybe he'd always been this dramatic. Whatever. It was something they had in common.

He rubbed his hands over his face and when he opened his eyes again, red and blues flashed behind him; he dropped his head, left it hanging on the tense line of muscles that connected his shoulder blades. He sighed, tried one last time to get the tears off his face, and then rolled down his window and just waited.

The OSHP trooper approached slowly and Finn thought he might've passed a birthday back somewhere when the lights first turned on behind him. How did these guys handle emergencies and still manage to walk soooo…..fucking…..slowly?

"Everything okay here, son?" The man asked in a booming voice; Finn supposed it had to be booming to cover the noise of traffic that continued to speed past.

Finn was used to dealing with sassy ten year olds so his reply was cultivated in a classroom far away from the present moment. "I guess it depends on what you mean by 'okay', but probably."

"On the level? You don't exactly _look_ okay."

Finn sighed. "Well, in a life sense, I'm probably not," he agreed. "Hence the crying."

The trooper cracked a smile. "Okay."

"But I don't, like, need my car towed or anything." Finn commented before he scrunched his face up. "In fact, that's probably the _last_ thing I need."

"Okay, well…" the guy flipped a glance over his shoulder. "People tend to call this stuff in—with ambulances and the fire department and half the world responding. Don't sit here so long people passing by think you're dead, okay? I'm sure you've got someone to go home to."

Finn sighed and rubbed his hand over his face. "Yeah…I'm just trying to decide if that's good or bad."

The trooper gave him a smile that was smug and seriously, did Finn look like he actually wanted to be having this conversation _at all_ let alone on the side of the _road?_ Could you tell a cop to fuck off without it being a problem?

Eventually, the guy sighed. "All right. I just need to check a few things out. Can I see your driver's license, a copy of your registration, and proof of current insurance please?"

Finn grabbed his wallet from the cupholder in the console (could _not_ sit on that thing without his ass falling asleep, even for the short drive home) and finally eased his license out of the holder. He handed that to the trooper before he leaned over to get the other stuff out of the glove compartment. As soon as he'd handed the two slips of paper over, the trooper went back to his car, and Finn was alone again, however temporary.

Because that was the thing; this guy was right. He _did_ have someone to go home to. And way back when, he never, ever thought it would've been Quinn Fabray of all people. Just how exactly had that happened? It was a one-thing-led-to-another sort of story, nothing romantic but still life changing if left enough time to just play out. She'd gone to Otterbein over in Westerville, but she had gotten a substitute teaching job at Montrose while she waited for something to open up at the high school. Now she was teaching at the high school so at least they didn't work together and she was on the track to Bexley High's answer to Sue Sylvester.

He could safely say he _never_ saw himself married to Miss Sylvester. Who could really ever imagine that terrible of a life for themselves? Seriously.

But then again, even though he and Quinn had been together for two and a half years or so now and they were living together, he hadn't ever exactly imagined getting married to _her_, either. His mom had long been trying to sell him on the idea of marriage, but it seemed really mean of her to keep doing that when he knew she didn't really like Quinn. And it didn't help that Kurt was still somewhat close friends with Rachel and talked all the time about whatever new thing Rachel was up to or _whatever new guy she was dating._ Finn shook his head. He was _not_ going back to thinking about Rachel yet. That road, even just the thinking one, was trouble waiting to happen.

The trooper knocked on the halfway rolled-up window and Finn jumped before he raised his hand a little to press the button.

"_Wow_," the trooper said. "Okay, well, since you aren't a wanted felon, I guess I can let you go. Just…just make it home in one piece before you totally zone out again, huh?"

Finn nodded and accepted his identification back. "Will do."

"All right, good night." The trooper tapped his open palm on the top of the car twice before he strolled away and back to the waiting police cruiser.

Finn tossed the stuff onto the passenger seat. He would deal with all that later. That was a life philosophy he'd embraced sometime around when they'd made him take Multicultural Perspectives in Teaching Physical Education.

He let the trooper pull out first, then checked to make sure he could pull out. After a brief wait for traffic he was headed back home. But that was sort of the problem, wasn't it? Home wasn't just a physical place you could go. You had to _feel_ at home somewhere for it to be a home. And really, he wasn't sure the _home_ he had made with Quinn—or maybe even the one he just let her build around him while he went about his life—was where he really wanted to feel okay going.

This was the problem with Rachel. She always made him question, made him believe, made him _want_. What if there were just some things in life you weren't meant to have? Like, as he went through college, he did all kinds of sports-related stuff. That was fine and well until he took a class that had something to do with education's role in team sports, something that was designed as an elective for him and as a class in a health sciences major for people that wanted to coach or something—and then he realized he wanted to teach. Being stuck in high school forever was straight up _not_ an option. As much as he had liked and respected Mr. Schuester, Finn didn't actually want to become him. For all the joking about finding his inner rock star, it was maybe true that he held that little-boy dream of actually _being_ a rock star. So even though he did the teaching thing, he played in bands. He had a minor in orchestral instrument performance (he didn't have to learn anything _new_ for that, because it was just a minor and drums counted well enough as long as he knew how to play any _possible_ thing in the rhythm section).

In the back of his mind, the whole time, Rachel had been telling him that he wasn't just a dumb jock. He could be somebody's teacher…somebody's bandmate… even when she wasn't there to say the actual words, she was always pushing him to be more, to be better, to_ do_ more. Whatever he dreamed up, she would tell him he could do it. Then there were the times, the rare phone calls and the stream of semi-weekly emails, when she actually encouraged him. She had been absolutely miserable while high school went on without her, but she barely mentioned it and _still_ encouraged him.

He'd never told her that he had applied to three schools in New York. He had never told _anyone_ that his dreams reached that far and he'd just worked extra over that first summer she was gone to afford all the application fees so he didn't have to tell his mom and Burt, either. Instead, that dream had smacked him right back in the face and he kind of wondered what she would say if he ever told her.

Not that it mattered because right now he didn't know if he even wanted to _talk _to her. Never mind anything more than weather-related conversation. He thought that might be all he could handle just now. And _forget_ seeing her. Had it really just been yesterday he encouraged her to come home? Had it been last night that he was anxious to see and touch and smell her?

As he pulled into the apartment complex, there was one thing he knew for sure.

He didn't want her to come home.

He didn't want to see her in person…not yet.


	5. The RBDDCYEO Cause

**A/n:** Thanks everyone for the gratuitous ego stroking. You guys continue to be awesome even though the site hasn't been cooperating very well. Also, I'm perfectly okay with _constructive _criticism, especially on this part. I understand how it may not be adored by everyone, especially the more diehard Finchel supporters. Just.. y'know. Trust me. I won't feed anyone to wolves or anything (in this particular fic at least). P.S. – this isn't necessarily that graphic but I'm starting to question the rating with every chapter so I'm going to up it to M. I'm sorry if this creates a problem for anyone. For now it's more like… M-light.

**Disclaimer:** Yay, I own Cooper and I think he's pretty stinkin' awesome. And what? Oh—the rest of them? No. I don't own them. I'm just swimming in their ocean. And I didn't hijack any other music. Yet.

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><p><strong>Chapter 5 - The Rachel Berry Dramatic Diva Cry Your Eyes Out Cause<strong>

Rachel looked down at the suitcase, the empty space just _mocking_ her. Okay, so maybe she was just a little bit drunk if the empty suitcase was talking. She blinked a couple of times and her ears focused on the voice of the drunk _boy_ next to the suitcase. She looked at him blankly.

"What?" She asked Cooper. He was sprawled out on her bed, had been looking over the pages of a script for tomorrow's audition, but he'd put it down and was frowning at her.

He looked worried. "Are you _sure_ you're okay? You don't seem like you actually _want_ to go home."

They had gone out to celebrate, _celebrate_, the fact that she was leaving tomorrow evening. She was planning on stopping in Chicago first to pick up Kurt. He had just finished all the spring fashion show stuff and wanted to go home and check up on his dad, so it would work out well. And she would only have _five hours_ in a car with him for him to nag her about Finn. The really good news was that she had been offered a couple of bit parts for television shows, so she wouldn't be stuck in Lima for more than a few weeks because she would have to go to Los Angeles to film those before she went to London and…yeah. It was all coming together but she still felt like she'd been ripped apart for some reason.

"Now that it's coming down to it, I'm not sure I want to," she said honestly. She pulled the suitcase off the bed and sat down next to him. As she sat down, she collapsed into herself. He frowned a little and sat up, tossing the script to the floor. He put an arm around her.

"Is this some more about that guy?"

She looked over at Cooper. He had gone to Julliard, too. He was the first _real_ friend she'd made when she first moved to New York for school. They had been through a lot together, she and Cooper, and had somehow managed to stay friends. Of course, it might've been the raging crush he had for her roommate and the unresolved _everything_ she had for Finn that stood in their way of a romantic relationship, but…she knew she could count on one hand the number of people in her life who truly had her best interests at heart. And she knew one of them was sitting right next to her. In spite of her declaration of solitude to Finn the other night, she knew she could count on Cooper. It just wasn't a given that they would always be in the same place. Their friendship was oddly perfect just the way it was, nomadic actors' tendencies and all.

Her eyes filled up with tears. "He won't even answer his _phone_," she lamented quietly. "I know he heard the song because Kurt said so, but now he won't even talk to me and this is just not how it was supposed to go. And it's not just that one song on there. I mean, that's the _worst_ one probably, but there are others. Everything I felt—_feel_—for him is just right there and he goes on overload and I barely even know him anymore and I'm so _stupid_ for just putting it all out there and—"

Cooper's blue eyes danced over his face before he pulled her warm, tiny body against him and dropped a kiss onto her forehead. "You're not the stupid one. _He is._"

"Coop, I-I don't know. Keeping him as a..as a possibility is the only thing I really know. He and I made a lot of promises to each other and I know we were so young but…but I believed the promises. I believed _him_."

"You said he lives with another girl?"

She gave a quick, mirthless chuckle. "Yeah. Only the girl that told me she would get him and I would get my heart broken. How am I letting this happen _again? _Why can't I just _learn_?"

He rubbed her arm, still holding her tightly as she sniffled. He'd given up more than one t-shirt to the Rachel Berry Dramatic Diva Cry Your Eyes Out cause, but he really hoped she didn't wipe her nose on him. "Wait, what? She told you _what?"_

Rachel pulled away a little bit so she could sit up and look at him seriously. "I played you the song I wrote for him when we were in high school; the one that started it all."

"Yeah," he said. "It was a little whiny, but…"

She tilted her head to the side and pressed her lips together. "This is not the time for your most honest constructive criticism. You're about ten years too late."

He laughed. Only she could stop in the middle of a dig-into-your-Haagen-Daas crying spell and berate him. He shook his head. How did this Finn guy cope with that when he was around? Seriously. He sounded like he was not the brightest dude in the world. After all… he'd _let her go_ in the first place. But if the guy'd had her at all, he must've known some secret way to calm her down.

"Okay, so you played the song," he prompted.

"Well, the whole idea of my getting it right came from a really nasty conversation I had with Quinn. She wanted to be with Finn, she actually _was_ with him at the time, and she told me that I was supposed to get out of Lima and I was going somewhere but that if I wanted that dream, I had to stop chasing Finn because there was no way I was going to have it all. So she said the only way I could get it right was to realize that, in the end, she and Finn would stay there. Finn would take over his stepdad's tire shop, she would get a job in real estate or something, and they would get married and start a family. And I would go on, without any of that, to just be a star."

He scowled at her. "And he ended up with her?"

Rachel sighed. "Apparently."

"He's an idiot."

"Well…I don't think he actually _knows_ that's how she spelled his future out. He was always willing and wanting to do _so much more_. I don't know what happened to that because I left and he started college at Ohio State." Rachel lowered her voice. "It must've been stupid, obviously it was, but I had always kind of hoped he would come to school here and we would be together."

Cooper nodded. "I see. And did you ever actually tell him about any of it?"

She sighed and toyed with the tie around the waist of her skirt. "No. It didn't seem to matter so much."

He raised an eyebrow and watched her. "You don't think he deserved to know that someone he loved was selling him short while you were willing to just let him be?"

She scoffed openly. "Is that script you've been reading going to your head? I told him in a song. I told him I still loved him in a song. And in the end…that song changed everything for me, but not in the way I had imagined or even in the way I had really hoped. In the end, I left early and I took advantage of the opportunities writing that song gave me, and he stayed in Ohio. It was all his choice and I never wanted to be the one to take that all away from him. I still don't."

"But…" he shook his head. "You still should tell him that she said that. If he's really still with her, he deserves to know she's like that. I'm guessing he hasn't seen that side of her, or hasn't realized that's what she's like." He frowned. He was looking at his smart, beautiful, successful, driven, and talented friend—and she was busy lamenting over some loser who hadn't even sacked up long enough to leave Ohio to be with her. It was annoying. "So when in the last, like, eight years since you realized that wasn't the case did you fail to give up on him?"

Rachel shrugged. "I don't know. I only know that it must've been repeatedly because here I am singing the same old song."

He laughed and tugged her against him. She dropped a hand to his thigh and rubbed the thick denim of his jeans, feeling the hard press of his thigh muscle underneath. She swallowed hard and looked up at him.

"Would you do me a favor?" She asked. "Just…a friend doing a friend a favor?"

"You know I will," he agreed. He looked down at her, where her head was tucked against his shoulder, and with one glance at her eyes, he knew what she wanted. His voice dropped. "Even if I think this is a really, _really_ bad idea. And it won't work."

"How do you know?" She asked. She blinked, but it was slow and lazy. She let in a breath, but it was slow and steady.

He closed his eyes tightly and pressed a soft kiss to her upturned mouth. "Because…" he started when he pulled away. "I know how you tick. If you haven't forgotten him, _I'm_ not going to be able to make you."

She sighed. "You can make me forget for right now." She kissed him this time, but it was the same kiss as before—soft, slow. Their lips stuck together for a split second, glued by her lip gloss and the sweet taste of mojitos that was still lacing her tongue from their dinner. She used his focus on their kiss to bring her knees up onto the bed, to kneel as he dropped back against the comforter and let his hands slide around her body and to her back. His fingertips danced against the small of her back, making her shiver and she sighed against his lips.

His breathing was a little heavier now as she backed away just enough to flip her hair over her shoulder.

"Charlie will be gone for a while, right?" Cooper demanded breathlessly. There were two reasons for the question, and Rachel knew and understood both of them without them being spoken.

"Yeah," she said, her chest heaving with her own heavy breathing just from their making out. "When she finds a random, she's usually out most of the night. Unless it's _good_ and then she's out _all of the night_."

There was an evil, knowing sparkle in Rachel's eyes and he nodded, barely able to move his head against her bed. "Well good. Then I guess I have something to forget, too."

Her smile blossomed and she leaned forward, this time planting her palms against his cheeks as she kissed him, her mouth moving a little faster and a little more certainly as she started to rock against him and his own body rocked right back in response.

Their identical moans tangled together and got lost somewhere between their mouths as she dropped her hands from his face and slid them both up under his shirt.

"Y-your hands are always so warm," he said gently. "I've noticed that."

She shrugged and smirked. "What can I say? I'm hot-blooded." She was still grinding against him, pressing hard and insistently into him in an aggressive, totally sexy way, but it didn't stop him from laughing and begging.

"Please don't sing that song," he said. She laughed, too, and he continued. "I mean, at least sing something that's actually sexy."

"_You_ sing something that's sexy," she countered, still arguing even as he flipped her. She latched her legs around his waist and accepted the warm, wet kiss he gave her with equal fervor.

Her phone blasted out "Defying Gravity" from its charger on the night stand and they both burst out laughing.

"That is _not _what I meant!" She shrieked through her laughter as she reached an arm out for the phone. She _had_ to answer because it was Kurt and they needed to firm up their plans for the following evening.

She pressed her phone to her ear. "Hello?" She gasped out as Cooper rolled his hips and rubbed against her.

"Hey, Diva," Kurt greeted casually. "I just wanted to make sure I have the right flight information for you."

Cooper's hands wandered to her chest, his hands sliding up under her the pink and grey striped sweater she wore over a lacy tanktop. His fingers traced the rough texture of the fabric before brushing over her nipples just lightly enough that she pressed harder against him and felt her heart rate kick up a couple of notches.

"Oh," she said in kind of a gasp as Cooper's eyes dropped closed and he choked out a moan he couldn't hold back. He tried. She was the on phone—he wasn't a total heathen. Usually. The next words stumbled out of her mouth, and even as she tried to force them not to sound breathy, it totally didn't work. "Um… yeah. Okay. Go ahead."

"What in the name of God are you doing?"

"Nothin," she said. Cooper was still rolling his hips against her, making her ache as he touched her. He was trying to help it—sort of.

"Liar. And who is moaning in the background?" Kurt demanded. "Because I _totally_ heard that."

"What? No. No one." Rachel said. Cooper gave up. Her voice was just too much for him to handle when she was on top of him like that. He ran his hand back around her hip, over the front of the denim skirt that had ridden up as she straddled him, and he lifted the fabric out of the way before he pressed his hand to her wet panties. She gasped again. "Cooper!"

"Oh-oh my God!" Kurt yelled. "Stop that for five minutes!"

"Stop, please?" Rachel begged in a weak voice. She wasn't even sure which one of them she was actually talking to. Cooper's hand stilled and the fog that was covering her vision lifted just a little bit. Her chest was still heaving, but she could at least talk when he wasn't doing _that_. "Okay, Kurt… this is gonna go quick." She muttered. "I'm on United flight 3512 that leaves Newark at 5 o'clock, and I land at 6:30 at O'Hare."

"Okay. I'll be waiting," Kurt said quickly. "I'll meet you at curbside pickup and we will discuss everything else then. Good night!" He hung up before she could even reply. For her part, she tossed her phone across the room as Cooper started her up again.

Rachel thought it was weird in moments like this, how she could be completely engaged in what she was doing with someone else, but she would still see shadows of Finn in the movements. The shadows moved more like him, the brush of skin on skin that left her feeling like he'd started a fire, a flash of dark brown on a head that was ducking down to trail kisses across her chest… even though none of it was _actually _quite like that. It had been so long since she was with him like that, but there were definitely times when it came flying back to her in sharp clarity. Her mind was very good at perpetuating the illusion, and she found that building her acting skills only made it worse. She no longer called out the same words she'd said for just him to know; she no longer had to bite her tongue to avoid saying his name. But she still saw traces of him all the same—used things that he had taught her would push her over the edge, said song lyrics that held special meaning between them. But for all the tricks she'd used with other men, however many times she'd sung their songs and remembered _their_ times, she had only learned one thing.

_It was impossible to move forward while you were still flashing back. _


	6. Worst Than the Cat

**A/N:** So… I swear to God this is necessary to the plot. And it was more painful to write than to read. And if you leave me lots of nice replies, I'll post the next part faster—and you'll love it. Trust me.

Much thanks to the fildos and to Lizzie for the hand-holding while I gagged through the writing of this. Also thanks to **wood-u-like-2-no** for the back and forthing—it's entirely your doing that I have a destination for this story in mind.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Glee or anything affiliated with Glee. I might claim Josh, but I'm not sure how much that's worth since he doesn't even have a last name yet.

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><p><strong>Chapter 6- Worse Than the Cat<strong>

"Jesus, Hudson. You need to _not_ pound through that thing, okay?" Josh said as he idly strummed the strings on his bass one last time. "Remember how this song is supposed to be subtle?"

Finn sighed and gripped the drumstick tighter as he ran his hand over his head. "Sorry! I remember, I just forgot."

Josh laughed, but he was watching Finn curiously. "What's up, dude?"

The other band members weren't exactly friends like Josh and Finn were, and they milled around doing other things. They'd actually stopped when Brandon popped a string and claimed he needed a drink (lead singers were temperamental like that, but Finn curbed the urge to call him a diva).

Finn sighed. "Nothing. Just shit on my mind. It'll go away."

Josh smirked and raised a water bottle to his mouth. "Glad to know that's how you solve problems. Just letting them go away."

"How much did Katie tell you, man?" Finn asked. It had been two days since his chat with Josh's wife and his pulling over and…he was pretty sure he had called Kurt that night too, but he couldn't remember beyond somewhat convinced. He'd had a bunch to drink as soon as he got home, desperate to wash away whatever he could as soon as he could. Only his recent calls list remembered what happened afterward at this point. Honestly, he hadn't elaborated much in spite of Katie's detailed questioning yesterday either—other than to say that it had sucked ass to hear the song and realize that he might've messed his whole life up but he still couldn't be sure _of anything_.

Josh shrugged and moved closer. "Enough to know you're seriously messed up."

"Understatement," Finn replied sharply. He sighed. "And now I have to deal with my brother who _loves_ her. He's friends with her and still talks to her and…" He ran another hand over his face, unsurprised that he'd actually worked up a sweat during their second practice set.

"Well, the first thing you gotta know is how much you want to rock the boat," Josh said. "I gotta be honest, my first impression of Quinn wasn't good. I only tell you that because you're my bro. I didn't tell you 'til now because of the same damn thing. Maybe you should let me and Katie meet Rachel and Katie can decide for you. She's good with that kinda stuff."

Finn just shook his head and stooped down to grab his water bottle from the ground. He sat back up and played with the lid while he answered. "I'm like a hundred different things when it comes to Rachel. Katie is _not_ meeting her and judging her while I'm still messed up about her." He took a long drink and looked pointedly at Josh before he finished. "If there's one thing I know, the one thing is that would be a _disaster_."

Josh nodded his agreement. "Worse than the cat?"

"Worse than the cat," Finn agreed, dropping his water back into its spot as Josh started to move back into his place and while the other band members did the same. Brandon called out a song title and a count and Finn at least found the one safe place he could lose himself for a few minutes longer.

They played for about two more hours but didn't talk anymore. That was good. Finn thought maybe drumming, the steady beats with the random riff thrown in, was the best thing for his crazy all-over-the-place thinking. It was something with structure, and he'd never had much of that within himself.

The _bad_ thing about it was that for every little bit of energy he burned off, there were two more bits waiting in line to take its place and by the time he got home, he felt like a meth addict on a twitchy, restless peak. The _good _thing about that was Quinn was still awake. She was sitting up in bed reading a book—probably something about how to make a guy marry you but he wasn't going to look and ruin the good buzz band practice had given him.

"Hey," she said slowly, tucking her book to the side and adjusting the way she was sitting. "Looks like band practice was...busy."

He looked down at himself. They had a gig this weekend (okay, tomorrow but who was counting?) at a bar uptown and had been practicing there to make sure everything was totally set up. Mostly, his set up was the biggest pain in the ass and it had taken him a while to get it right. Packing up at the apartment then unloading his drums and moving everything around had left him a little bit of a dusty mess.

He thought about asking her how in the hell she knew that, but he was not in the mood to talk. Instead, he just muttered his greeting under his breath as he crossed the room and stooped down to give her an insistent kiss, hard on the lips.

She didn't argue when he flipped the covers off her lap and then lay on top of her. Instead, she slid down to adjust to a more familiar angle. He reached up and yanked the ponytail holder out of her hair, letting the amber waves spill over the pillow and she groaned and relaxed against him. Once her knees relaxed and he settled against her, pressing her into the bed, he fixed his hands on her straight, narrow hips and let his fingers dig into the smooth fabric of her silky pajamas.

Her hands found the bottom of his t-shirt and tugged up, but she could only get the bottom of it up as far as his shoulders without him moving his arms. His hands were too busy holding her in place so he could grind against her. She raked her short nails own his toned chest.

"Wha-what's going on?" She stammered as he backed away from her long enough to tug his shirt the rest of the way off. He fumbled with the buttons on her pajama shirt, the rough skin on his fingertips snagging against the smooth fabric as he went.

"I need you, Ra-really..really bad," he breathed, catching himself and almost physically biting his tongue before he pressed it inside her mouth with a familiar warm thrust.

"So take me, love," she said in her low, sultry voice before she reached for the button the fly of his pants.

_Come hear it for yourself, love_.

The song echoed in his ears and through his brain and maybe, just_ maybe _it had been hard for him to keep a beat at practice because he kept hearing it. Why had he expected this to be any different? He was never going to be able to get away from it.

He groaned and sunk against her, but she took it differently and just stepped up her efforts to get his pants off.

_It was like her hands couldn't spread over him fast enough to catch up with his need, but she was going to try. He thought he had heard something crashing to the ground, but it didn't occur to him what it might be until his leg slipped off the side of the small bed and his foot landed on the broken glass in the picture frame she'd been holding._

_The glass poking into his bare foot barely registered though, compared to what her tongue was doing to his ear. Was it possible for something to feel that good? Like really?_

"Really?" Quinn said with an exasperated sigh.

Finn backed away from where he'd had his tongue in her ear. "What is it?"

"Kurt's calling you. If it's this late it better be important," she said, coming up with the phone that had been in his pants pocket.

"He can wait," Finn said breathlessly, batting the phone out of her hand. What he _didn't_ know was she hadn't expected him to say that and she had already been pressing the button to answer the call as she handed the phone to him.

The next thing they heard was Kurt's confused "Hello?" echoing across the covers.

Finn stretched his arm out and flailed around until his hand made contact with the phone and he brought it to his ear.

"Hey, Kurt," he said. He tried to make his voice sound normal, but thinking of Rachel and _still_being pressed against Quinn made it nearly impossible, and the sound was rough and deeper than normal.

"Hey, Finn…what are you doing?"

Finn turned his head to look at Quinn and give her a heavy smirk. She gave a breathless little giggle from where she was still pinned underneath him. Kurt's voice was loud and she could still hear even through the muffled way the phone was pressed to Finn's ear.

"Ohh… no. First Rachel and now _you_?" Kurt demanded. "You are all ridiculous. If you're busy, just _don't answer the phone_."

"What? Quinn did it for me."

"Hey!" Kurt said, the word no more than a sharp bark, and Finn laughed out loud. "I do not need to know details!"

"What _do _you need to know, man? Why are you calling me this late?"

"I will be at Dad and Carole's this weekend and trust me…you should be there, too."

Finn pulled away from Quinn a little bit, which gave her the opportunity to sit up and slide the pajama top off her shoulders. She wasn't wearing a bra underneath and Finn's eyes slammed closed as he groaned in appreciation. As his eyelids closed, though, the creamy, pale skin before him turned to a more golden hue in his mind and Kurt's previous words registered.

"Wait… _what_? What do you mean first her and then me?" Finn asked. His eyes came back open. He had been very careful not to actually say the name attached the question.

"Oh, apparently she and Cooper finally gave in and did the – wait." Kurt said, the words starting off casual and halting abruptly. "You don't want to know."

But the thing was, he already _did _know by the words that _had_ been spoken. And he felt it like stepping on broken glass—like it would take a while to burrow in. And just like the last time she'd given him that feeling, it had taken_ forever_ to dig out and was he missing some sort of significance in the fact that she'd been the one to do that, too? But still, it was burrowing in, digging into him and it _hurt_. Like, physically—if that was even possible.

"Kurt, focus though." Finn said. "I'm right in the middle of something—"

"—that's _disgusting_—"

"—and you should just tell me why you called," Finn finished up. Quinn was watching him with her head bowed and a smirk playing on her lips, her hands running up and down his thighs and disappearing under the hem of his boxer shorts before reappearing just above his knees.

The bad news was her palm pressed against his erection as Kurt continued, and Finn inhaled sharply and barely heard a word his brother said. The gist of it was that Kurt would be driving down to Lima the day after tomorrow and Finn and Quinn should go and did they want a ride?

"N..no thanks," he said. "We have some plans Saturday night, but we'll come on Sunday."

"Ookay," Kurt said slowly. "You need to call me tomorrow when you realize you only heard half this conversation."

Her tongue hit his erection and his breath hitched. "Okay…_bye_." He choked out before he hung up and threw his phone over his shoulder.

It was weird to him, and not any less than a little of a mindfuck, that he could be in the middle of this with his _girlfriend_ – and not just that but the girl he lived with—and still be thinking of someone else. No matter what was in front of him, the skintone he _saw_ was sunkissed olive, and the smell of shampoo and soap and lotion burned into her skin was sweet instead of slightly musky. The lips touching his body were pouty and soft and warm and the legs wrapped around him felt like they were miles long…regardless of who he was with or what was actually happening. He felt like he was caught between some fantasy world that could never compare to the reality that had existed so long ago.

He could remember so clearly what it had felt like, the way she moved like water and the way she said his name in a breathless, sing-song voice when he hit just the right spot inside her body. The way he would come undone hearing his name on her lips like that and the way she would drag her short nails across his skin when she came. He no longer had to bite his tongue to not whisper the intimate words he had said to her then, the words that turned her to liquid gold in his hands, pliable and begging him to do anything as long as she could feel that way forever. He'd said the words again and again, cheapening them a little each time and now it didn't hurt so much when they slipped between his lips.

As he came back into reality, into the really real moment instead of the one he remembered and pretended was real, he heard the wrong words in the wrong voice.

_If you fall, I'll fall too. _

"Let's get married," they said instead. "Please, Finn?"

Finn sighed. He wasn't ready yet. "I c-can't. I can't. Not yet. I'm still just…"

Her voice was less pleading, a little more stern. "Just what?"

"I'm still just learning," he admitted carefully. He held her close so he didn't have to look in her eyes. He _was_ learning—that's what he'd told her, even if it wasn't the whole entire truth. He was learning how to be the man he wanted to be, a man that was part of a twosome, and a man that didn't have one foot out the door. He was still learning how to forget, learning how to live without another girl. But so far he'd only learned one thing about any of it.

_It was impossible to learn while your mind insisted on flashing back to what it used to know. _


	7. So Last Decade

**A/N: ** These last couple of parts, this one included, have been a little shorter than my norm but hopefully the story is still moving okay. Also, just a brief note because this habit I have with this one is going to get worse: rather than including all of one time in an update (a "meanwhile, back at the ranch.." sort of thing), I kind of go back and forth. So if where they're at ever seems awkward timewise, I'm sorry. I'm terrible at explaining.

Lastly, thank you to each and every one of you who replied. You made me feel a lot better for the last part and now I feel less gaggy about it. Plus, it's not happening again. We're moving on to bigger and better things.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Glee or any of the fantastic music in this chapter. Please don't sue me.

**Songs Used: Make It Without You** by **Andrew Belle** (from his The Ladder album) and **S&M **by **Rhianna**, which I love in spite of the fact that it makes me car dance like I'm working a pole. Or maybe I love it for that reason. Also, it refers to but doesn't quote the song that inspired the whole story, which is **Replace Me** by **Andrew Belle** (from the **All Those Pretty Lights** EP, even though I say this and the other are on the same album).

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><p><strong>Chapter Seven: So Last Decade <strong>

Rachel raised her hand, lining her eyebrows with it to provide some sort of shade from the low early evening sun despite the sunglasses she had whipped out of her purse before she set foot outdoors. Kurt had told her the make and model of his car but she had somehow failed to find out the color and she was now realizing the egregiousness of her error. The sedan he drove was commonplace and she'd already walked toward no less than five of the _wrong_ ones.

Finally, he stepped out of the driver's side, leaving the door open and standing just tall enough he could wave from about four cars behind where she was standing. Traffic was bearing down on him from behind and so as soon as he knew she'd spotted him, he got back into the car and waited for her approach before he got out again, ignoring honks and curses from passerby, to help her with the suitcase on wheels that was nearly as big as she was (and probably weighed just as much but he had no room to talk and he was only planning on staying through Tuesday).

Once they were settled in the car and out of O'Hare's ghastly interchange area, comfortably on the freeway and pointed vaguely in the direction of Ohio, he reached out to turn the radio down.

"Okay, Diva. You have _got_ to explain this whole thing to me step-by-step. Because I'm missing some crucial information."

Rachel sighed. She knew the sunglasses were hiding her eyes, but it didn't matter. She was tired, she was still slightly hung over, and she was suffering not only from writer's remorse, but now had added bad-friend-who-asks-for-pity-sex remorse to the list.

"Okay, well..." she began, primly smoothing out the skirt on her sundress to spread down to her knees where it was supposed to go. "I'm not really sure where the beginning is so I'll just start with a few nights ago when he called me out of the blue to tell me he had recognized my voice singing on a television show soundtrack."

Kurt frowned. "He hadn't watched that?"

Rachel smirked and looked over at him. "No. Can you really see him watching that show anyway?"

Kurt made some hand gesture that kind of said she was right before he nodded.

She continued. "Well, it was a song I wrote a couple of years ago and the guy that recorded it liked it so much he asked for some other stuff for his album. So I gave him four or five other songs and he really liked them all. We worked together and changed a couple, and in the end I sang a duet for that one and backup for a couple others."

"I think I remember when that happened."

Rachel nodded. "Good. I think we talked about it a lot. Well, one of the things I didn't tell you at the time…even if you figured it out…" she dropped her voice down and looked at her lap. The fine pattern of white polka dots against dark blue dress made her eyes dance a little and she closed them. "Most of the songs were about Finn. But there's one in particular that…well, it has fingerprints of our relationship all over it. Private details and things that were said…"

"So Finn bought the album and now he's freaking out."

"I think so," she admitted. "But he hasn't been receptive to any of my communication, so I can't be positive."

"We've got to fix this," Kurt muttered.

"Well, I think maybe you should hear the song first," Rachel said. "And to that end, I have it either on compact disc or on my iPod."

Kurt laughed. "Honestly? A CD player is _so_ last decade."

"Fine," she said, her voice short and a little pissy, as she retrieved her iPod and the cord needed to attach it to his radio from her large purse.

"And what's with the super-sized travel gear?" Kurt asked. "I seem to remember your last purse being small and gold."

Rachel sent him a withering glare. "If you would come to New York once a year, you would know how I'm accessorizing. Since you refuse to travel to me, you do not get to comment."

"Oh, the hell I don't!"

"Well, maybe when Finn rejects me, I'll let you take me for retail therapy."

"Rejects you?" Kurt asked slowly. "What makes you think he would… are you trying to break him and Quinn up?"

While Kurt was fumbling his way through the question, Rachel had attached her iPod and was spinning her thumb around the wheel to settle on the proper album. She clicked a couple of times.

"Waiting for an answer here and I'm not getting any younger."

Rachel looked up at him with a raised eyebrow. "I thought your new eye treatment promised exactly that."

Kurt flicked an annoyed glance her way as she finally shot her hand out for the volume on the radio. She overshot it and the noise visibly startled them both before she turned it back to a more reasonable level. Kurt listened through once and then with a flick of the wrist signaled she should play it again.

When she turned the volume down, he looked over at her as much as he could as he continued driving. "So okay, I've heard the song. What is it that Finn would've heard?"

Rachel sniffled a little bit. Remembering their shared history, hers and Finn's, was so bittersweet. She had honestly thought they would be together and things would be completely different at this point. She had never factored in that he might've actively chosen to end up where he had.

"There's Kleenex in the glove compartment," Kurt mumbled, his tone low and slow. "Please don't get snot all over my new car."

Rachel laughed a little as she followed his directions and retrieved a Kleenex even as she resisted the urge to point out that his car was over a year old and she had ridden in it before. She rested her sunglasses on her head then dried her cheeks and swiped at her nose before she spoke.

"Finn would've heard a lot of secrets being spilled very openly. And even though no one else would know what he heard, I'm guessing it didn't stop him from being angry."

"Like what?" Kurt whispered. There was a delicate balance here. He didn't want to seem too eager for the gossip—but at the same time, he _totally_ wanted it.

Rachel sighed and decided to just be as blunt as possible. Honestly, it wasn't going to matter now, years later, was it? Besides, in Finn's eyes, she had already outed a _lot_ of things about them. "Did you know that me and Finn had sex?"

"_What_?" He gasped out. "When did this happen?"

She swallowed hard and sniffled again before she remembered his proviso and the Kleenex. "More than once," she said simply.

"Okay, really? How did…I'm pretty sure no one knows about that. That's _huge_."

"I'm pretty sure you're right," she agreed. She sniffled. "The last time was the last time I was home. I was at your house when he came home from school to pack up before he moved into the apartment in Columbus." She exhaled a shaky breath before she continued. "I told him that I wanted him to come with me and we could figure out everything else. In the end, though, he went to start teaching and I got that part with Broadway Across America so I just left."

"That's got to be the saddest thing I've ever heard."

Rachel sighed again and pulled her iPod up a little higher so she could see what she was doing. She skipped a couple of songs, hit play, and then turned the volume up a little more without another word.

_This is the starting of my greatest fear. I'm all packed up, getting out of here. Then you call and tell me not to go... that I'm the one who put the rock and roll in your life. This is the starting of a brand new day, never liked this town much anyway. I need the city like I need the rain…_

As Kurt listened to the slow, slightly out of tune piano and the scratchy, soulful voice, he looked over at Rachel. Her head was turned but he could tell by her breathing that she was crying again. She had her hand to her mouth. He guided the car slowly to the side of the road and slid the gear into 'park' before he turned to take her hand.

"What happened?" He whispered, dragging his thumb over the back of her tiny hand. He would have to be an idiot (or Finn and totally blinded by his own feelings) not to see how affected she was by everything, even with years in between to dilute it all.

Her next inhale was shaky, but deep, and she turned to look at him. "He-he showed up the last night after…before I left to go to LA." She inhaled again and her voice seemed a little stronger even if the volume was lower. "That was the first time." She blinked and the standing water in her eyes slid down her cheeks in neat trails. "He asked me not to go. He told me he really loved me and he was stupid and that I was the best thing—the only thing that mattered to him."

"And you left anyway," Kurt said softly. It just…it explained so much.

"I was so scared," she said. She squeezed her eyes shut tight. "I thought I was choosing between him and the only life I wanted. I was _not_ old enough for that choice and I don't think he meant it to sound so..so…emotionally manipulative. I'm not sure if he came over intending to..well…take my virginity."

Kurt sighed. The wheels in his head were spinning. "When did you talk to him again?"

The slow, sad song was fading in the background as she stopped to think for a second. "Not 'til after school started back up. I spent most of the summer locked in a room trying to write and…" her voice dropped. "I couldn't talk to him if I wanted to keep any of the focus I had left."

"He spent most of that summer in his room," Kurt said quietly. "He only came out when we made him or when he was working lots of crazy hours. I think he was pretty devastated and honestly? I don't think he was the same for a long, long time. If he's ever been the same."

"I know I never was," she said. "But it wasn't just the physical act. We made so many promises to each other. And it's all right there in that song. What if he never talks to me again?"

Kurt sighed before he turned to face forward and put the car in drive again. By leaving straight from the airport, they had guaranteed they wouldn't be in Lima until well after eleven p.m. They couldn't necessarily afford major stops on the way if they were going to get any sleep. Once he realized she probably wasn't going to leap from the moving vehicle (he wouldn't put it past her and her flair for the overdramatic), he eased the vehicle back out onto the road.

"I don't think you have anything to worry about there. You've made him way madder before than he probably is now. And he didn't sound _angry_ when I talked to him." Kurt looked at her and then back to the road. She was hanging off his every word. "He sounded _lost_. Confused. And maybe a little bit like he did that first summer you were gone."

Rachel opened her mouth to reply, but the soft song had faded and neither of them realized how far the volume had been turned up until -

_La la la come on! La la la come on! _

They both startled visibly and truth be told, Kurt just about jerked the wheel and sent the car into the concrete barrier. Once the shock wore off, they laughed in unison.

_Feels so good being bad … there's no way I'm turning back…._

'_Cause I may be bad, but I'm perfectly good at it. Sex in the air, I don't care, I love the smell of it. Sticks and stones may break my bones, but chains and whips excite me._

Rachel, for her part, was grateful to be relieved of the burden of confession and remembrance and shook off her melancholy quickly. Kurt was glad he could sing along to the vulgar lyrics and try to forget what she'd said for the time being and how screwed up he had just realized they totally were.

Well, okay, he wasn't going to forget it exactly, but he needed time to let it marinate before he would have any hope of a proper reaction. The right answer to all these questions would be absolutely crucial.

"You know, Diva…I'm not sure you could've pulled this song off in high school." He reached out and turned the volume down just enough they could comfortably talk at least.

"I'm not sure I could've pulled off this _road trip_ in high school," she said appreciatively.

"Why did we hate each other again?" Kurt asked slowly.

"Solos," Rachel said. They glanced at each other and laughed as they simultaneously said "Finn crush."

_I love the feeling you bring to me, oh, you turn me on.._

Rachel couldn't help it; she had to dance to the part of the song that was playing. Kurt kind of wished he could've persuaded her to stay in Chicago for an extra night so they could've gone out. They hadn't truly been out with one another since he'd been in college in New York. Given her mastery of the naughty lyrics, he thought going out would be fun.

And if he persuaded her to go to a gay bar, which hadn't always taken a lot of work, there was at least the chance he would meet someone…and that reminded him of another conversation. He turned the music down a little more in preparation to pry details out of her.

"So, Rachel, what's up with you and Cooper?"

Rachel sighed. "Cooper is just my friend."

Kurt raised his eyebrows. "Yeah, except for my ears do _not_ deceive me. My hearing is actually quite perfect."

She dropped her sunglasses back over her eyes, relieved the crying was probably over, even though the sky was starting to darken down for the night. "He's my _gifted_ friend."

"Oh my God!" Kurt yelled. "Gross!"

"Well…" she said with a shrug.

"Rachel!"

"Look, he's just my friend, okay?" She shot him a wary glance, but it was hidden behind her dark sunglasses. "He was doing me a favor."

Kurt snorted. "Sounded like it. Maybe a couple of favors."

She threw something at him. He thought it might've been her used Kleenex. He wasn't thinking about it any further and she was _so_ detailing his car in Lima if that was how this would be played.

But really, the wheels were already turning. Rachel had haltingly filled in so many blanks for him-enough that he at least had an outline and could try to make a game plan. Finn's behavior had never been exactly predictable, but their senior year of high school had been so much _worse_ than normal. It was true that Rachel's absence was an easily recognizable factor, but the changes in him had lasted so much longer than expected. In fact, although it was true Finn was kind of guarded about his love life, they had wondered if he dated _at all_ before he told the family he'd asked Quinn to move in with him. It was kind of good in a way because it let them mask their horror with their surprise.

So what kind of promises had they made—Finn and Rachel? And had the promises actually been _broken_? Or were they still just promises left dangling without a happy ending? There was no way they would've promised each other different cities, different jobs, different lives. There had to be something about being together in there, so Kurt had to assume they were still feeling the weight of those promises as though they had been broken. He could tell just by listening to Finn the other night and then listening to Rachel today that they both currently existed in some weird space. It was the place that existed in between potential and actual. Kurt wondered if he was one of just a few people who could get them out of that space and into something more real…more permanent. Maybe they'd just forgotten how to take the next step.

If there was anything he was ever good at it, it was giving a little push.


	8. The Unfortunate Beer Spitting Incident

_**A/N: **It takes someone very special to persuade me to post for the third time in twenty four hours. Never mind the fact this is the first time it's been possible because I never write ahead. **Jen (wants2beawriter)**,this one is for you._

_**Really, it's also for everyone who has encouraged, handheld, reviewed, favorited, alerted, followed… the feedback for this story has been amazing, especially considering the lack of smut thus far. Seriously. I hope this is everything you guys have been hoping for. Thank you all so much for the love. (And keep it coming...)**_

_**Disclaimer**:I don't own Glee. I do own Josh and Katie and Cooper, who all now have last names. So that's good. But in other news, I'm sick of this and henceforth will just refer back to the previous disclaimers made on this story._

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><p><strong>Chapter Eight: The Unfortunate Beer Spitting Incident<strong>

Finn took a sip of the draft in front of him and looked around. They were on a short break and Quinn had left before they even went on, saying something about needing extra rest if she was going to have to deal with Kurt in the morning. Finn bit his tongue, not replying that Kurt was actually _coming tonight_ and she could've gotten over the initial shock of dealing with him. Being around Kurt, someone so polar opposite to her, was not unlike jumping in freezing cold water for Quinn. She just needed to get the first hour or so out of the way and then she'd be fine.

But at least tomorrow at brunch she would be around other people, too.

He sighed and shook his head. For a girl who had been so concerned with social agendas in high school, Quinn was actually a little anti-social now. It was confusing and not something he had ever imagined even possible for her, but then again it made sense. Rachel had always told him it was lonely at the top, and so he figured that meant maybe Quinn thought she was on top of something (although he _still_ felt like questioning _on top of what,_ exactly). Although he guessed for a guy in his position, it probably wasn't an entirely bad thing that his girlfriend didn't hang around all the time. It wasn't like he was going to actually take any of the bar girls up on their kind of nasty offers, but it was nice to not fight with his girlfriend about the fact someone had _made_ an offer in the first place. She seemed to enjoy those fights and it honestly bugged the shit out of him, but at the same time he didn't care enough to fight it out. He usually just told her she was right and he'd try harder.

But sitting here at the small table, looking at the group of people who were actually probably younger than him at this point, and they were _having fun_, he wondered if maybe that's what he wanted to do and why he kept telling Quinn he was learning. Really, he just wasn't done having fun.

Wasn't that kind of sad to think, though? That if you actually tied down and committed to someone, you were giving up the right to have fun? That wasn't how it should be, was it? Shouldn't you just be looking forward to the rest of forever with someone and…maybe her stupid girly television had gone to his head even though he swore he hadn't been paying attention to it during those rare times she found a way to make him sit with her while she watched.

He took another long drink of his beer and saw Josh motioning to his watch. Finn looked down at the cell phone he'd pulled out of his pocket and put on the table. Kurt was rolling through tonight and said he'd stop by to see the later set. He'd asked if Finn had checked his email before he left for the show, but then Finn had needed to leave and had said he'd call Kurt back.

Anyway, they had about fifteen minutes before their second set was supposed to start. He had no idea why Josh was telling him to look at the time. He held up his hands with one finger on one hand, five on the other and shrugged. Josh nodded so he figured that must've been good enough. Whatever it was, it was enough that Josh turned back to where he'd been pressed up against Katie while they danced a little bit to the deejayed music overhead.

Finn felt a hand on his shoulder and turned abruptly to see Kurt standing before him. He fought the urge to grin in mocking of whatever Kurt was wearing (he'd seen a lot while Kurt went to fashion school, but sometimes it still surprised him) and just offered a simple "Hey!"

As they engaged in a man hug, Kurt said loudly into Finn's ear "You _really_ should have called me back."

The words left Kurt's mouth about the same time Finn saw _why_ Kurt was saying that. He swallowed hard, seeing Rachel there right behind Kurt, and looking like she was torn between making eye contact and inspecting the hem of her t-shirt.

"I guess I should have," Finn said as Kurt backed away.

It wasn't like he could've been prepared for it anyway, because as soon as he saw her, he _had _to get his hands on her. He wasn't mad, he wasn't sad, he wasn't anything but…there. And so happy to see her. All the confusion and the restlessness and that need to pace like he was a stupid cat or something (stupid, stupid cats and no, he was not a cat person and he would never go down that road _again_, even if Katie begged him to _again_).

His gentle smile set her at ease. She saw his lips move like he was saying hello, but she couldn't make out his actual words. It didn't matter. She still heard his voice conjured from the back of her mind, his wonderful voice, and then he swept her up into a huge hug and she held on tight.

His heart was pounding in his chest right by her ear and it made her feel a little better because she knew that he was just as nervous as she was. They hadn't talked in days, hadn't emailed in weeks, and hadn't seen each other in _years_ but it was like a lifetime had passed between them in the telephone silence over the last few days.

When they pulled away, Kurt was just watching them with a cautiously neutral expression, his eyes darting back and forth in a slight blue vibration. He wasn't sure what he would've expected. He had dropped Rachel off at her dad's house late last night. Other than the invitation to come out to the bar, he hadn't spoken with her or seen her until he picked her up a couple of hours ago. He hadn't told her Finn's band would be there until they hit the parking lot in the alleyway behind the bar and she hadn't said anything. She had just stared before she pasted a smile on her face and went inside.

Finn's eyes danced over Rachel's face. She looked basically the same—her haircut just a little more updated and her hair in a messy, curly ponytail; her makeup was still as perfectly applied as ever…and she still smelled the same. He didn't want to be creepy about it but he gave her a total once over and realized she was dressed completely different than he would've seen when he imagined her. She was wearing jeans, first of all, and a t-shirt that was a lot more _trendy_ and tight than anything else. She fit right into the bar and he didn't know how he felt about that.

Plus there was the fact that, even when she was casual and not completely done-up, she was still the most beautiful girl in the room.

Rachel looked at Finn, but he was exactly the same. He had dark shade of stubble on his cheeks and jaw, but otherwise…not a lot different.

Except he was Finn and he was right in front of her and so she couldn't breathe normally.

"Let me get you a drink," Finn finally said. "God, it's just so good to see you, Rach."

Her smile widened and she dropped her head as her hands hit her hips.

"What do you drink these days?"

Rachel gave a small shrug. "How about Tokyo Tea?"

Finn raised an eyebrow. "You go to a bar and order tea?"

Kurt cut in. "It's a mixed drink, Finn."

Finn sighed and looked at his brother, barely peeling his eyes away from Rachel's smile. "Got it. And you? The usual?"

Kurt just nodded. Rachel and Kurt dropped into chairs at the table where Finn left his beer.

"I really, really wish I had something to add to his drink while he's gone," Kurt sighed.

Rachel felt another wash of nausea, not unlike the one she'd had from drinking too much all week. She pressed her head into her hands. "Kurt, I feel like I'm going to throw up. This is _so weird_."

His responding glance was nothing but friendly concern and sympathy. "You've always felt that way around Finn, though."

"I know," she said simply. "I just don't know why I thought it would ever change."

"What would ever change?" Finn asked, leaning to set the beer refill, Rachel's green drink, and Kurt's martini on the table before he dropped into his chair. He was talking a little louder than normal over the din in the bar, but she shivered just like she was hearing his voice whispered in her ear.

Kurt inhaled sharply but quickly grabbed his drink.

Rachel shrugged. "Bars _really_ are kind of all the same."

"Yeah, but this is the only one with me playing drums in a few minutes," Finn said simply. He shrugged and then tossed the rest of his first beer back casually. Rachel raised her eyebrow and wondered when he caught up to her with the arrogance. Instead she just drank.

A man neither Kurt nor Rachel knew approached. "Finnegan!" He said jovially. "Let's go!"

Finn groaned. He picked up the second beer he had ordered and downed half of the dark brown beverage in three long gulps. As soon as he put the glass down, the man picked it up and finished it while Finn stood. Finn gestured to the guy who stood around the same height but with more of a brick-wall stature, comparatively.

"Guys, this is Josh." He flicked a glance over his shoulder at the dark-haired, smirking bandmate. His glance caught Katie tripping (literally) up to Josh's side with a small drink in her hand. "And Katie."

"Hi," Josh said easily before he resumed stealing what was left of Finn's drink.

"Josh and Katie, this is Kurt and Rachel." Finn said, gesturing as he said the names.

Well, Rachel's name provoked the desired reaction. Josh pulled the glass away from his mouth just in time to spray beer everywhere, even blowing it out his nose. The really unfortunate part was he had turned his head away to avoid spraying the table and had instead sprayed his wife. She had just opened her mouth to say something to or about Rachel's presence, and instead swatted him and offered a "Gross!" in objection.

Finn sighed as he raised his hand to brush his fingers at his hairline, scratching an itch that didn't need it, while he grimaced. The thought barely had time to flash through his mind, but he'd been hoping to keep Katie and Rachel separate. If Katie wasn't so distracted in trying to dry herself with a way-too-small cocktail napkin, Finn knew she would already be sizing Rachel up. And while Finn had no doubt Rachel would fill whatever expectations Katie likely held, he didn't _actually_ want to find out what Katie thought. He wanted to pause all those thoughts.

Could you do that? That would be awesome, and would've come in handy during that exact moment.

It was _not _a welcome turn of events when Josh finally dragged Finn away and he saw Katie drop down into the chair he had left beside Rachel. It was also not particularly welcome that he could see them from the small stage.

"So, Rachel, I've heard a lot about you," Katie started vaguely.

Finn saw the smirk on Katie's face as she turned to engage Rachel in conversation. The first song of their set was cover of Jack's Mannequin's Dark Blue, so Brandon had the intro on keyboard, but Finn had to kick in with toms not too far in and he was so distracted by the two women that he almost missed it all together. No one else would've noticed when he dropped the first beat, but Josh kind of shot him an annoyed sideways glance.

Kurt felt himself morph into bitchy mode a little bit. He wasn't sure what to make of this Katie girl. He'd heard of her, of course, but he thought she might fall into a role of defending Quinn (who didn't need it) and Quinn's "property".

Rachel gave a small smile before she took a drink.

"Likewise," Rachel lied smoothly. But it couldn't be said she'd heard a lot about _anyone _in Finn's life anymore. She had to try really hard to remember she wasn't on stage. It wasn't like she was interviewing for a role or something. She shrugged, the rolling of her shoulder designed to relax her just as much as she hoped the drink in front of her would. "Not that I've talked to Finn much over the last couple of years, but…"

"Well, everything I've heard was actually in the last week or so," Katie finally admitted. She watched Rachel closely. "Something about a song?"

Even Kurt was struck speechless by her brazenness. She wasn't hostile, necessarily, but she wasn't giving a lot away either.

"Yes, well…" Rachel said. "I guess that's the hazard of having a songwriter in your past."

Katie sighed. "He won't let me listen to the song or tell me what one it is."

Rachel raised a shaking hand up to tuck a non-existent errant hair behind her ear before she sighed. "I wrote it a long time ago. I didn't really intend to stir up any controversy in his life." She cast a glance toward the stage where he was drumming. She could feel his eyes on her periodically, but it didn't seem to be affecting his playing. Then again, he was a professional of sorts. She knew seeing _him_ in the audience wouldn't be a big enough distraction to deter her from a solo. But _feeling_ him there… it definitely would've made things better. She sighed before she leaned toward Katie a little bit. "You probably know him better than I do these days. Is he happy?"

Katie looked at Finn and Rachel didn't necessarily miss the way her eyes shaded. "I think he's doing okay," she said vaguely.

"That isn't what I asked," Rachel mumbled. She looked down into her mostly gone drink. "I think I'm going to need a lot more of these."

Kurt was on it and was glad for the distraction. He stood immediately and took the glass before she could even understand what had happened. He offered Katie a refill in as few words as possible and then he was just gone. Truthfully, he was grateful for the out.

"So Finn says you're an actress?" Katie asked, trying to back in from a different direction. This conversation was awkward and going nowhere fast. They had about an hour until the guys finished out their set and an hour of awkward usually felt more like a lifetime.

Rachel brought her head up and let in one, steadying breath. She smiled a little. "Trying to be. I actually just tentatively agreed to move to London for a role."

"London? That's a big change," Katie commented off hand.

"Yes," Rachel agreed succinctly. "But it's one step closer to the goal."

"And what's 'the goal'?"

"A Tony award for a best actress," Rachel said easily. After all, she'd been reciting those exact words for her entire life. She probably could've answered in her sleep and she _certainly_ had no trouble speaking over the nervous lump in her throat.

"Well that's ambitious," Katie said. She sat back a little bit in her chair. She was trying, but she couldn't imagine someone as laid back and goofy, as outwardly easy going and mellow as _Finn Hudson_ with someone that had such a matter-of-fact goal. Katie was pretty sure, from just the ten minutes she'd spoken with Rachel, that the tiny girl was like that with everything in her life.

"Maybe," Rachel said. "But there's some buzz on at least a supporting nom with the last play I did and then this role in London… well, if I can pull it off, it would assure a win in the supporting category. That win would go a long way toward…" Rachel stopped suddenly and gave a little laugh instead. "I'm sorry. I have a tendency get carried away. I've been told it's not my best trait."

Katie smirked. "Well…at least you have ambition and something to be excited about." She cast a glance toward the stage. "I personally have been wondering what's next. The guys have the band thing and they're doing really well. I'm teaching," she said with a shrug. "I guess I could go back and get my master's degree, but the thought of going to a school all day and then going _to school_ all night kind of makes me homicidal."

Rachel laughed, a big and boisterous laugh that set her and Katie both immediately at ease. Little did Katie know Rachel had considered a similar move (going back to school) and come to a similar conclusion (she would rather jam a pen into her own eye). Kurt was just returning with their drink refills and he looked at her amused affection.

"So," Katie said, starting up again as she waved between them. "Explain _this_ to me."

Explaining their friendship was not exactly easy so they filled the rest of the hour with _that_. Katie returned the favor with the story of how she befriended Finn and her new (at the time) husband and Finn had hit it off and formed a band. By the time Josh and Finn finished their last set and returned to the table, the three were tipsy and chatting merrily (and Rachel and Kurt had pegged Finn as the furthest thing ever from a cat person.)

Instead, they described him not just as a dog person, but someone who would take on the characteristics of a beloved pet; more like a Labrador retriever whose tongue would hang out of his mouth if he ran too fast.

They were still laughing about that (complete with Rachel doing an impersonation after she stiltedly mentioned needing to further her 'improv' education) when the boys approached, bringing extra chairs to crowd around.

Both boys were sweaty from being on a stage under lights, plus the exertion of playing, and Rachel didn't miss how affectionate Katie was, even as she teasingly offered Josh the same cocktail napkin she'd used to clean off the unfortunate spit from earlier. He grimaced a little and muttered something no one else could hear but he leaned toward her anyway.

Rachel cast a glance over at Finn, who was maybe even a little more sweaty than Josh, and felt a stab of longing so strong it threatened to make her throw up.

When she had asked herself if she really wanted him or if she were just casting an eyes-closed wish to rewind the clock ten years, she'd had no idea just the sight of him could make her feel so proprietary. She _wanted_ him. She wanted to _take care of him_.

She really, really wanted to be able to greet him like Katie had greeted her husband, with a sloppy kiss and a congratulatory goosing for a job well done—even if she never really understood the concept of grabbing someone's ass in public as a sign of affection.

But he didn't belong to her. He wasn't hers to kiss or to care for or even to _tease_. As she looked at him, she finally had to bow her head to keep from actually _crying. _She swallowed hard, willing the salty taste back down her throat and focusing again on her breathing.

Kurt probably thought he was helping as he cleared his throat. "So where is Quinn, anyway?"

Finn opened his mouth to answer, but his gaze had darted over to Rachel as soon as the other girl's name left Kurt's lips. He saw the muscles in her jaw tighten and her eyes slam closed. The urge he had to lean in and kiss her cheek and mumble a reassurance in her ear was almost deafening, turning into butterflies in his stomach and a buzz in his ears.

"Uh…um…she's at home," he offered weakly, his eyes never leaving Rachel. He watched her take two more deep, steady breaths before she looked over at him.

"It's my turn to buy a round. What were you having before?" She asked, her voice strong and her smile suddenly bright.

"Guinness," he said, his eyes still trained on her and surprised at how fast she had just shut down anything he could possibly read.

_She'd written that song years ago anyway. Was it just, like, wild and stupid hope that she maybe still felt that way at all? Probably. Besides, she had some dude named Cooper now._ He couldn't keep the bitterness from his tone, even in his own thoughts.

Kurt reached out a hand and caught Rachel's arm as she started to walk away. "None for me, Diva. Maybe just some water—I need to start planning for the drive home."

Rachel stopped and looked at him honestly. "I was having fun drinking with you before you clammed up when Finn came over. How would you feel about staying in town? We can get up early tomorrow morning and head back in plenty of time for your brunch."

Kurt kept looking without speaking, so Rachel kept talking.

"I still have an executive card with Marriott. I would assume there's one here somewhere. We can just stay there."

Finn and Kurt had almost the same confused look on their faces, but Kurt gave his thoughts voice. "What does that even _mean_?"

"It means I can get a room at any Marriott with no notice anytime I want. It was a useful tool when I was living out of a suitcase and doing shows eight times a week," she retorted. She had been searching through her wallet while she was talking and she produced a silver card. "There's a toll-free number on the back. Call it and they'll find an open room in your current city. We can arrange a car to take us to the hotel through the answering service as well."

Kurt's jaw was loose as he accepted the card from her. "From now on, I'm only traveling with you."

"Seriously," Josh piped up. "That's a pretty sweet thing."

"Works for people who don't ever wanna stop to have a life," Finn said sharply. As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he wished he could pull them back like a fishing line or something. She looked like he had slapped her. Her gaze fell on him and hardened immediately, but it only lasted a second before she turned on her heel and walked away quickly.

"What the fuck is your problem?" Katie said, her voice loud enough to cut through the noise all around them. Not that Finn needed it to, because Rachel's silent glare had done that well enough. Not only that, but it had cut through _him,_ too.

The look on Katie's face _demanded_ an answer. It was an answer he didn't have, so he looked to Kurt and then to Josh, but they were both just kind of paralyzed. Finn thought maybe Katie had some sort of stunning powers. And some sort of truth magnet. He _hated_ it when she did shit like this. "I-I…I just…I feel like…" he stammered. Katie raised her eyebrows and he felt the pressure to answer go up and how the _fuck did she do that_?

"I don't know," he finished lamely. "Okay? I don't know what the fuck my problem is. I _always_ have this problem when she's around." His eyes slammed closed. He didn't want to talk about this but she was making him with her eyes. Josh was really fucking bad at keeping his wife reined in—or distracted.

Katie leaned forward. "Well, you just punished her for that." Her voice lowered and he could barely make out the hiss of her next words. "All she wants to do is see that you're happy and _know_ that you're okay. You know? Just _be_ okay. That's all you have to do."

Just like the hiss, his responding mumble was almost impossible to make out. "I'm not okay, though. I miss her. Like really, _really_ miss her. And she's not even gone again yet."

"Jesus, _Finn_," Katie said. She sat back in her chair. The other two boys were like ping-pong spectators, just watching the back and forth and totally unable to do or say anything. "She is not the problem here. _You _are."

"What?" He asked, his eyebrows knitting together. "I-I…"

"I need to go make a phone call," Kurt said abruptly, holding up the card Rachel had given him.

Josh, who knew nothing about Kurt, jumped up. "Yeah, can I help you with that man?"

Kurt kind of looked at Josh like maybe he'd grown a second head, but didn't protest as Josh followed him to the front door. It was downright _awkward_ at that table and the pressure to leave was still mounting.

"How the fuck do you figure I'm the problem?" Finn said, grateful at least that there were now no other witnesses to the conversation. "She left. She always leaves."

"Did you give her a reason _not to_?" Katie fired right back. "Because as far as I can tell, that girl is still head over heels for you. She looks at you like she'd jump your fucking bones if you gave her any clue."

Finn rolled his eyes. "I've known Rachel Berry a _lot_ longer than you have, all right?" He bit back. "You do _not_ get to go there with me."

"Bullshit," Katie said. "You love it when I clear shit up for you, which is why I have to hear about every bullshit argument you and Quinn ever have."

"Who says they're bullshit?" Finn said. "Quinn and I at least have something _real._ I don't have to follow her to ends of the earth."

"So… you're with Quinn because you're _lazy_?" Katie asked. "Because you sure as shit don't look at her the way you look at Rachel. And again, that's after about five minutes of observation."

"What are you even talking about?" He gasped.

Katie shook her head. "Look, it doesn't matter anyway. You're with Quinn and that's not going to change. Rachel told me she's moving to London. So just apologize, bite your fucking tongue for the rest of the night, and you're in the clear to go back to your regularly scheduled life."

Finn's face fell. He had been tense and maybe even a little angry and a lot confused, but as soon as he heard Rachel was moving an ocean away, he could only sort of hear the rest of the words anyway. "_What_?"

Katie sighed and leaned back in her chair, making a desperate effort to unclench. Rachel was approaching and struggling, but she managed to set the four drinks she was holding on the table without incident. She looked back and forth between them. The tension was _radiating_ off of Finn and she frowned, but Katie's next words gave her nothing to go with.

"April. I made it until April. That's better than a lot of New Years' resolutions," she muttered. She pulled her drink out of the glass square in the middle of the table and looked to Rachel. "Thanks for this."

Rachel nodded absently, but she was even more distracted when Finn looked at her point blank. "Can you get me out of here, please?"

She eyed him evenly, unsure that was the best idea. Kurt was gone, Josh was gone, and whatever had just transpired here had him breathing a little hard and had all the muscles in his neck tense, visibly straining even above the collar of his t-shirt. She glanced at Katie, reclined in the chair but already a third of the way through her new drink. She went with her gut response and, in the process, totally shocked him and made him rethink everything he had thought he knew about Rachel Berry.

"What the hell," she muttered. She picked up her new drink and it didn't even look like she actually swallowed until she put the empty (except the ice cubes) glass down on the table with a heavy sound. "Let's go."

His anger reignited a little bit, though, as he realized that was the _first _time in the history of, like forever that she had actually said those words to him. He thought he would try her approach, though, and actually…y'know.

_Go._


	9. This Moment is Not That Moment

**A/N: **Thanks so much for all the support with this story. I'm not sure at this point I can really even list the people who have helped me out. I hope this part and the next one (and maybe even the one after that) will serve as the necessary thanks. Because of the intensity and honestly, I don't do cliffhangers, I'll be back to post the next part later today—especially if y'all give me a shout and let me know you're caught up and you're still interested. Just in case you're wondering, this is also nowhere near the end. I'm still making plans for this story and still busy writing away. I guess I should apologize for the lack of updates on my other in-progress stories; this one has taken over my life.

**Disclaimer: **Not sayin' it. See previous disclaimers. On everything I've ever written.

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><p><strong>Chapter Nine: This Moment is Not That Moment<strong>

Rachel dug frantically through her bag. She had heard the beeping text message notification almost two full minutes ago and she had yet to spot either the blinking light or the sleek black backing of the device that was clearly smarter than her at this point.

"I think that purse is as big as you are," Finn mumbled from the too-small chair in the corner of her hotel room.

Rachel sighed. "Well, it helps me avoid stopping to have a life. I can just carry the tools of my trade with me at all times." She brought her eyes up and narrowed them a bit as her hand continued to fumble around.

Finn sighed. "I'm sorry. That was low."

She tossed herself down in the matching chair next to him, grinning in triumph when her hand located the phone as her motion shifted everything in her purse. She looked over at him honestly. "I just…I had no idea you felt that way about me, Finn."

"I just wanted you to come home," he admitted. "I've wanted you to for so long."

She bypassed the security screen on her phone as she sighed. "This isn't my home. But I think you know that."

He watched the slow smile spread across her face as she read the text message and he wanted to hit something. Or _someone_. He had a pretty good idea what the dude's name was, too. "So who's _Cooper_?"

What? He tried to make the name not come out like a sneer, but he wasn't successful.

She fired back a quick text to whoever (whatever) had sent her a message before she looked up at him. "Huh? Oh. He's a friend of mine. He was my co-supporting actor in the play I just wrapped."

Finn grimaced a little bit. "You're hooking up with your co-star? Isn't that a little…"

Rachel raised an eyebrow. "A little _none of your business_?" She asked, the words sharp, even on her tongue.

"Rach…"

"Finn…"

"I don't owe you any explanations and you know it. You _live_ with someone else. Not only _someone else, _but… you live with Quinn. You're going to marry her and raise perfect blonde, athletic babies with her and I'll just keep on doing what I'm supposed to do; the only thing I know _how_ to do."

"Rach," he said again, but it was more like a breath. He was watching her so intently. It was moments like this, clear back in their actual romantic relationship, when he would tug her against him and she would wrench the deepest, blackest confessions out of the bottom of her heart while he wasn't watching her but instead _holding on_ to her.

She was determined _this_ moment would not be _that_ one.

"Did you just…did you just expect me to live my whole life alone?" She said, even as she knew the answer. That was exactly what he had expected.

"I..I-I…I.."

_Fuck_. That wasn't what he'd thought. Well, not exactly. He hadn't really thought about it. He just knew it made him want to punch a hole in the wall when he saw some picture of her out with someone or heard she was dating someone new. It made him violent and ill and…he knew it wasn't fair, but he couldn't really help how he felt, either.

"That isn't fair, Finn," she said, her whisper far raspier now that there were tears in her eyes. "You promised me. You promised me that we would meet up in New York and it would only be a year and…" she shrugged. "And you didn't show up."

"I tried," he said. "I tried so hard, Rachel, but I didn't get in." That same sharp disappointment as always stabbed him in the back of the throat. "It was like one of a hundred reasons why I didn't think I was good enough."

"I didn't need you to be anything but _there_," she said simply. Her phone buzzed again from her hand and she surprised him by throwing it on the bed. She sniffled and reached her hand up to her face.

"I couldn't be there," he said simply. "I didn't know how to be." His heart fell as he said the words to _her_ that he had said to Quinn so many times. "I..I was still learning."

"Aren't we all?" She said. She shook her head. "I'm still learning how to not put my life on hold so I can work. I'm sure you don't have that problem with Quinn."

"What is _that_ supposed to mean?" He burst out.

Rachel squeezed her eyes closed and gave up trying to keep her face dry. It just wasn't going to happen. She wasn't sure where her courage was coming from, but she let it all out in a rush. "It means that you're all she ever wanted and she thinks she is the only thing you're capable of ever having. She told me, Finn, before all the rest of it, she told me that in the end she would get you and I would get my heart broken because I didn't belong and I needed to give up because giving up on you and the thought that we could be happy was the only way I would ever get it right and—"

He stood up and leaned down to put his hands on her shoulders. "Wait…what in the hell are you talking about, Rach?"

The breath she let out was hollow and it squeaked a little bit. "That's why I wrote the first song."

"She…"

"She said she would work in real estate and you would take over the tire store."

He stood up, letting his hands drop away from Rachel. The whole thing…had Quinn _planned _it all? He wasn't allowed a _choice_? Like she just decided what was best and…

It wasn't what he wanted, that was for damn sure.

It was like everything snapped into its proper place in his mind. Everything that was missing, that was in the wrong place, made total sense. It wasn't just weird stuff she'd said, but.. but… she was so weird about Rachel. She was so weird about getting married.

So was he, but for totally different reasons.

He didn't _want_ to marry Quinn. He never had wanted to. He didn't _want_ to stay in Lima and raise a family. He didn't _want _to live up to everyone's expectations of failure. He wasn't even the same guy that thought he wasn't good enough to leave a small town and never look back. He wasn't the same guy who had given Rachel a star necklace and told her that he believed in _her_ more than himself. He wasn't that guy anymore.

But Quinn was still _that _girl.

He stared at Rachel blankly. She was watching him but she had stopped talking. She was crying—hard.

"Why didn't you tell me this…before?"

She shrugged as she stood up. "Before _when_?"

It was like some sort of a stupid video thing. He saw somewhere in the back of his mind all the times he had seen her since then. Even before she performed the song, there was something _off_. They had been friends, struggling to be friends, in the wake of their disastrous breakup. She had sung him this song about how she would never give up, she had told him to listen so he had thought it was about him, but then…then everything was _wrong_.

Quinn had said things to her—things that changed her. Things that changed _them_. It didn't seem fair that Quinn could have all that power in their relationship, did it? But she'd taken that power anyway.

There wasn't a time Rachel could've told him. Not without giving Quinn that power back, and Rachel would never, ever do that. Rachel had kept herself together. Rachel had left him behind. He thought Rachel hadn't looked back, but what he didn't understand until she told him all of it was something so simple.

She didn't look back because she felt like she was spying. Looking at something that wasn't hers, looking at a world that had spit her out and didn't want her. Looking at a world she didn't think she belonged in. He hadn't ever once stopped to figure out if he could fit into the world that accepted _her._ He was the one who hadn't tried hard enough.

Rachel had given him everything she had and he didn't even know it at the time.

He knew it now. And he felt… well, what was worse than feeling like total shit?

She was still crying, still watching, but he still knew this girl and somehow something about all of it had changed. She was starting to crumble inward, like she had all those times before when she made a bad choice and she was waiting for someone to pull a rug out from underneath her. She had her arms wrapped tightly around herself and if he didn't do something _quick_ she was going to run into the bathroom and lock the door.

He knelt down in front of the chair she was sitting in, the movement putting him below her eye level. Her head was bowed and she was gasping in hollow breaths.

"Rach," he pleaded, his voice low and heavy. She didn't look. "Rachel, please look at me."

She did what he asked, and her eyes were so huge, so full of hurt, and her mouth turned down.

He wanted to kiss the frown off of her face, but he didn't think he could. He'd spent so long denying his feelings for her, which was way easier with, like, states and mountains and freeways and _years_ between them. It wasn't like flipping a switch and it would be magically okay to attack her with his mouth. He tucked his hands against her jeans. Her thigh muscles clenched under his hands and he blinked, trying to stay focused.

"I'm…I'm sorry. I didn't know about any of that. It would've changed things."

She just nodded. She didn't say anything.

"You…you have gotten it right, all along. I'm the screw up." She started to shake her head and he continued anyway. "You…let me go. But did you _let me go_?"

Rachel sighed and uncrossed her arms long enough to put a hand on his face. "Of course I didn't. You heard the song."

"Oh, I heard it," he agreed.

"Are you mad about it?" She asked. The question was so weak, so timid, he couldn't believe it was her talking.

"No, I'm not mad."

"Then what are you?" She asked, pressing forward, no matter how uncertain she felt.

"I-I'm…I'm messed up." He cleared his throat and then another random memory floated down and made him think he was going to throw up. "Katie said you're moving to London."

Rachel's eyebrows went up a little bit and she sniffled. "Um, yeah. I am."

"So why… why tell me this _now_? We don't…how would we work that out?"

"You _want _to work it out?" Rachel asked.

"I-I-I well…I don't know yet."

Rachel nodded and then dropped her hands to wrap them around his. She tucked her fingers into his palms and looked at them intently. "I'll be home for a whole month, Finn. You don't have to figure it out now. We have time. I have to be in Los Angeles for about a week beforehand, and then I have to be in London but not until the end of next month. "

He dropped his head into her lap. "It's not enough. It isn't what we promised, Rach."

"You've made other promises, Finn," she whispered. "There was a time when I let you kiss me even though you were with someone else. I'm not that girl anymore."

"Okay," he breathed, his head moving in the nod against the well-worn denim of her jeans. "Have you made other promises?"

_Please say no, please say no please saynopleasesayno…_

She let in a sharp breath. "I already told you I don't have anyone. I told you that just a few days ago. There hasn't been enough time to change that."

"Kurt said he called you…and you were… and who exactly is Cooper?"

"Cooper is a very good friend who tried to do me a favor."

Finn's head came up off her lap. "I don't…what?"

"I've had sex with other people, Finn. I'm not…well, you _know _I'm not exactly a virgin anymore."

It was the first smile in a while and it was more of a smirk. "So I've heard."

She smiled and shook her head. "I had sex with Cooper," she admitted. The admission dropped into his gut like a lead weight. He tried hard not to groan as it hit him. "I've had sex with Cooper before. It's nothing new."

Finn frowned. "You still didn't tell me _who _he is."

"A friend from college," she said simply. "We have lost touch here and there when one of us leaves or whatever and…most recently, he was the male counterpart for my role in the play."

"_That guy_?" Finn asked, scowling suddenly. "I remember that guy."

She swallowed hard. "Yeah. Well, every time I had sex with him, it's because I was heartbroken over you. I think it's safe to say he's sick of hearing you in a way, too."

Finn's eyebrows went up. He literally felt sick having this conversation. "When was the last time?"

Her hands were casually playing with his hair as they chatted, and she kept that up. She had promised him once that she would always be honest with him. She had been since then, too, no matter what it cost her. She knew this time wouldn't be any different. "Two days ago."

He backed away from her and his Adam's apple bobbed sharply in his throat as he swallowed.

"So Kurt was right."

She sighed. "Only sort of."

"You can't _sort of_ have sex." He protested. "Either you did or you didn't."

Once he had backed away, she stood up and put her hands on her hips. "No, it isn't that simple. You _live with someone else._ I'm sure you've had sex just as recently as I have, but you've had it in a long-term relationship."

He let out a shaky breath. "Don't talk about her. Don't bring her into this."

"Why?" Rachel burst out in frustration, gesticulating as she went. "Is she that precious to you?"

"No, _you are!_" He roared without thinking about it.

She stepped back like his words slapped her. "What did you say?"

He dropped his head and pinched his finger and thumb together on the bridge of his nose. There was a knock on the door to the hotel room and the silence between them was so loud that they barely heard the noise.

He didn't want to answer her, so he answered the door instead.

It was Kurt.

One look at Finn's face and Kurt wished he was _anywhere_ else. That wish was confirmed when he saw Rachel standing just beyond with her tear-streaked face. It looked so much like high school he half expected to find Blaine Anderson hiding in his bed when he got back to his hotel room—and that was a flashback he didn't particularly want to have after it had been so long gone.

"Hey," Kurt said simply. "I just wanted to make sure Rachel got everything she needed for the night and…"

Finn relaxed a little bit and looked over his shoulder at her. Man, she looked like crap. And she was still the most beautiful and heartbreaking thing he thought he'd ever seen. She gave a slight nod in answer to Kurt's non-question.

"Yeah," Finn said simply. "I think…I think I'm going to go anyway."

Rachel looked like she wanted to protest, but no words came out. He crossed the room to her quickly, latching a hand onto her elbow and leaning down to breathe his next words, his lips against her cheek.

"I _will_ call you when I figure stuff out. Okay?"

She didn't say anything, but he felt her cheek move against him as she nodded. His eyes were closed while he drew in a deep breath of her smell, that smell he had missed and wanted to taste again just a few days ago.

She had literally changed his life in just minutes._ How did she do that?_

And then he was gone.

And her life was different, too.


	10. As Long as You're Housebroken

**A/N: **Okay, a little more rapid updating than I had planned, but oh well. Thanks for letting me know you're enjoying. REALLY let me know after this part because this is one of the parts I was excited about from the start. Thanks for all the encouragement! Just a little reminder, I know I changed the rating on this to M and what that implied. For now though, I'm just more comfortable having it that way due to language (which is about to get a lot worse) and just kind of adult content in general. If that's a disappointment and you were looking for something else, I sincerely apologize.

**wood-u-like-2-no**: thanks for the back and forth. It has been a lot of fun and you're now responsible for about a third of the plot that follows. Thanks for that and I hope this continues to live up to your adult expectations.

**Paceismyhero_: _**thanks for your handholding, as always. Even though I know you won't have time to read til tomorrow I hope it brightens your day.

**The Fildos** - umm... no. This isn't my haze fic. But will it keep you distracted for a bit longer?

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><p><strong>Chapter Ten: As Long as You're Housebroken<strong>

Finn really, really didn't want to move out of the backseat of Josh and Katie's car—like _ever._ Because if he moved it meant he would have to go inside and he see Quinn. And there were not enough "really"s in the world to go before the amount he _didn't_ want to do that.

Josh had drawn the short straw and been designated the DD for the night so he was the driver while Katie was snoring in the front seat.

"I pulled into this spot like two songs ago. Feel free to vacate whenever," Josh said, finally turning in his seat to look at Finn.

Finn groaned. "Can I just sleep in your backseat…for the rest of my life?"

"I'm gonna go with 'no'," Josh said. "C'mon. It can't be _that_ bad. You just disappeared to some hotel with a random for, like, an hour and a half. I think the bro code covers me _not_ telling Quinn. At least you came back."

The responding smirk was _almost_ as heavy as the unentertained sigh before Finn retorted with the _only_ comeback that had occurred to him out of all Josh said. "You've gotta be kidding me. And Rachel isn't a random."

"That just makes this worse. Stick with my version."

Finn shook his head and swiped his hand over his face tiredly. "Hey, can I ask you something on the down low?"

Josh looked over at Katie; the only way secrecy was possible was if she was out cold—which she was. "Shoot."

"Can I crash on your couch for a while?" Finn asked, his voice deadly calm and totally serious. "Not, like, we leave right now, but like I move in? Because me and Quinn need to have a conversation and I'm pretty sure I'll need somewhere else to live after that."

"Is everything okay?" Josh asked.

"No."

There was a long pause. Finn figured Josh was hoping he would elaborate. Finn wasn't planning on it.

"Do you need to talk about something? I can try to wake Katie up."

Finn gave a chuckle that was more like a breath. "No."

"Well, I think we even have a spot in the guest room. As long as you're housebroken."

For some reason, that quip made Finn laugh a little. "I think so," Finn said carefully. "I can't say the same for Katie after her puking incident in the bushes, though."

"At least I made it to the bushes," Katie half mumbled, half slurred. The two guys looked at each other in shock that she was awake before they busted out into laughter.

But then Finn remembered Rachel's face and Rachel's words and what he had to do and the laugh died before it really started. He reached for the door handle and popped it before he leaned over to grab his jacket and drumsticks off the seat. He tugged his jacket on quickly and shoved the sticks in his back pocket before he gave an open-palmed press to the air for a wave and turned to head inside.

As was to be expected, Quinn was long since in bed. The entire apartment was dark and still, other than the clock above the stove that glowed a faint green to light his way. He knew he would look like the world's biggest asshole if he woke her up now, but he knew he couldn't leave it even for the few hours until morning. It would eat through him by then and make everything about a thousand times worse. That was one thing he'd _learned_ and he couldn't forget it now—he didn't have a flash temper, necessarily. He just put off dealing with things until they boiled over and then exploded. If he dealt with things as soon as they started, he didn't think he was that bad of a guy to be around.

His hands were open like he was miming something about a book and he pushed his nose into them, feeling a little comforted when the rough of his palms met the rough of his scruffy face. Even the comfort of that touch, the one he wanted to belong to someone else, couldn't get all the words and all the music out of his head. It was swirling around, all blended together and it really fucking hurt.

_Can I start again with my faith shaken… before all the rest of it… giving up on you 'cause I can't go back and undo this.… the only way I would ever fix it somehow get it right… she told me, Finn and I accept the truth that sometimes life isn't fair… would get my heart broken… my best intentions keep making a mess of things… I didn't belong…_

It wasn't until the light flipped on, flooding the space all around him with a hazy glow and filtering through the spaces in his fingers, that he realized he was crying and making a noise that was on the verge of screaming. When he pried his fingers away from his eyes, he saw Quinn standing before him, looking about two-thirds asleep and one-third totally confused. Her hair was down, tumbling over her shoulders in haphazard honey curls and waves, and she almost looked like that same fifteen year old girl who had broken his heart.

He wished he could go back to fifteen and feel like the whole situation was that simple.

"You do realize it's two-thirty in the morning and you're yelling?" She asked in a low voice. She was still squinting against the bright light.

Finn was breathing hard, still not sure if he could get actual words out. Looking at her, seeing her just made it worse. Like, a hundred thousand fucking times _worse_.

"You…you ruined everything," Finn said.

Quinn scowled and folded her arms against her chest. She flipped her head a little bit, letting a stray curl bounce back over her shoulder and out of the way. "Excuse me?"

"Tell me about a conversation you had with Rachel before she wrote that song way back in high school."

The flinch wasn't visible, exactly, but he saw her jaw set and her arms tighten across her chest. "Why don't you tell me why you're so upset first?"

"Oh, I will," he warned. "You go first."

"I gave her the wake up call she needed so she would leave," she said, stepping a little closer to him. "That's all."

"You _didn't_ tell her that you and I would stay behind in Lima and start a family? You didn't tell her the only way she could get it right was to give up on me?"

"So what if I did? What difference does it make now?" She asked. "It's no less true than it was then." She tilted her head. "Except I was right."

Her superior, smug grin made him so mad he wanted to smack it right off her face. He could feel his fists balling up at his sides. "It's not what _I _wanted for my life. Did that matter to you at all?"

"What we want and what we end up with are not always the same thing," she said, her voice still level and deadly calm. "Let me tell _exactly_ how this is going to play out, hmm?" She started moving, walking around him in a slow circle. "You and I are going to bed because we have to be in Lima at eleven tomorrow for a family brunch. _Family_. I'm part of your _family_ whether you choose to acknowledge it with an engagement or a marriage or _not._

"When we wake up in the morning, you'll apologize because this silly world where Rachel tells you something that happened ten years ago and you then attack me for it is _not_ your reality. This is not okay, Finn."

"It's not okay that I'm thinking for myself?" He bursted out. "So it's okay for you to tell her that you don't think I _can_? What kind of life do we have if you don't think more of me than that?"

"You tried to leave, didn't you?" She asked, her voice dropping down into a more freezing level now that she was starting to wake up. "Look how far that got you. You teach fifth grade. You play drums on the weekends in Columbus, Ohio—two hours away from the small town you grew up in and claimed to hate. You ended up with a girl you dated in high school. Your horizon was never that big, and it certainly hasn't extended." She pressed her lips together to study his face and his reaction. There was nothing to be seen except the fierce calm of his glare. "So you will do what I say because you don't really have another choice other than ending up alone. And we both know how well you've done with _that_."

He stepped closer to her so he was right in her face. "I'm done," he spit. She flinched a little bit as he towered over her.

"If that's really how you feel, Finn…then get the fuck out. My name is on the lease. Not yours." She held his glare with a challenging one of her own. "And let me ask you another question, while we're at it. How far do you think Rachel Berry would've gotten if I hadn't submitted that recording from Regionals to my mom's cousin in Los Angeles? Hmm?"

He stared and blinked as her question really sunk in. He wanted to tell her that things would've been _fine_ without her and Rachel would've 'made it' on her own, but maybe things would've even been better because there would have been more time for him. But something else was floating through him, another realization that made his anger flare again, tinged in bitterness and regret; he couldn't get the words out.

_It really was her in the beginning, always interfering in his relationship with Rachel_. She had started all of this. She had _undone_ everything, including him.

He felt the punch building before his arm ever started to swing; he turned so it landed into the wall on his left. His fist sunk into the drywall, caving it in, and left pieces of sheetrock flaking off and down onto the linoleum floor as he retracted it. It didn't matter that his knuckles were scraped and bloody; it didn't matter that his hand started throbbing as soon as it made contact.

The whole thing didn't matter because he didn't feel any better and he knew he had to go before he caved into the urge to hit a _person_—more specifically, a small blonde person with a wry smirk as big as her face. He knew hitting girls was wrong, but right now he thought it would be more like punching the devil. He couldn't look at her and see the girl he had loved even a little bit—even though the more he thought about it, the more he thought it had been a long time since that was actually the case.

"You… you…." He sighed and rubbed his hand over his forehead again. "This is over. It's _just.._it's just over. I have to go," he choked out before he turned and left the apartment, not sparing another glance her direction because he just couldn't stand to look at her again.

He had started walking in the general direction of Josh and Katie's house before he even understood the full scope of what was going on.

He had _left_ Quinn. He was _single_. He didn't have a girlfriend. _He didn't have a home_. Basically all he had to his name was the phone in his front pocket, the drumsticks in his back pocket, and the clothes on his person. Because there was no way in hell Quinn would leave anything he owned alone so he could go back and move out later.

He stopped and sat down on the curb, his legs so long they formed a sharp triangle when he put his feet on the ground and he dropped his head between his knees.

What the fuck was he going to do now?

Somewhere in a dusty, cobwebbed corner of his mind were some breathing exercises Rachel had taught him back in Glee club when he wanted to actually sing a note for longer than, like, a beat and a half. She had taught him how to make his lungs stronger for singing with random breathing tutorials.

She had taught him so much, whether she was actually around or not. Thinking of her was kind of like his own personal breathing exercise—only now he didn't have to feel guilty for thinking of her and letting the warm, gentle feeling soothe him and calm him down. It wasn't like he was thinking of _another_ girl or the girl he could never be with or—

Holy _shit._ He could go be with her if he wanted to. He…he wondered if this is what it had felt like for Kurt's bird their senior year of high school when Finn had "accidentally" left the door open (shut up, it was _so_ an accident and not because that stupid bird started chirping at weird times all summer long). The door was open and the time was right and all you had to do was step out and…

_Be._

He hadn't thought about it before, but maybe he had really been learning. Maybe he was still learning. He didn't know who to _be. _He didn't know what he wanted to be or where he wanted to be. All he knew was that right there, sitting on that curb, instead of drowning in fear of never being or having _more_—he was drowning in possibility. He had no idea what to do or where to go. So he sat there.

Slowly, the cool night turned into a cloudy morning. There were so many thoughts running around his head he didn't move, he just let all the thoughts pull him under. It was like he relived his whole life, or at least the most important parts of it, sitting there on a curb that didn't even look familiar to him. Finally, he lifted his head up and pulled a deep, crisp breath into his lungs.

Even if he didn't know what he was doing or where he would end up, he had to start somewhere. He couldn't just sit on this curb forever.

He sighed and finally stood up. The flow of blood to his legs was almost painful and he stretched his arms out as if to remind his body that it was actually six foot three and could stand up tall. He wasn't just a lump on a curb. It took a minute for his muscles and even his back to believe him. Getting older kind of sucked that way.

He looked around. He had walked probably two miles before the racing thoughts overtook him and he sat down. He wasn't particularly close to the apartment, but as far he could tell, he wasn't extremely close to Josh and Katie's house either. He squeezed his eyes shut tight. He didn't even know what time it was or how long he'd sat there.

He knew Kurt would be heading back to Lima eventually. Knowing Kurt, it would be sooner rather than later because Kurt hated relying on the "emergency" supplies he kept in his car. He would get home as soon as he could. That's how he decided he would call Kurt, even if he was only kind of paying attention when he did it.

Before the phone connected with his stepbrother, though, he realized that calling Kurt kind of meant calling _Rachel_. All he had to do was think her name and he felt a hundred percent better about things, but at the same time, he didn't want her to see him like this either. She would be all warm and smiles and he kind of looked like he'd spent all night in a gutter. _Because he had._

He thought about hanging up, but then Kurt answered. (He was a little relieved that was actually the number he called.)

"Oh, Finn, this had better be good because it's barely six in the morning."

Finn smirked a little. Well at least he knew what time it was now.

"Can you come get me?" Finn finally asked.

Kurt groaned. "Where are you?"

Finn squinted a little, trying to will his dry eyes to work the same way he'd had to will his body back to life. "Umm…"

"Are you even kidding me?" Kurt asked, his sleepy voice tinged with annoyance.

Finn sighed. "It's a long story and I'll tell you about it when you get here. Do you remember where the high school is? The one Quinn works at?"

There was a long pause and something rustled against the mic on the phone. "I think so. If not I'll just put it into my GPS. What's it called again?"

"Bexley," Finn said. He was close enough to there he could walk to the high school. He looked down at himself, still dressed from the night before.

"Okay," Kurt sighed. "Give me like twenty minutes. And you _owe_ me."

"I'm sure. Maybe I can talk Mom into baking you something."

"No, I could do that myself. I have fat rolls, Finn. Not all of us have the appetite of a horse and the metabolism of a meth addict even though we're thirty."

"You are snappy for how early it is," Finn said flatly.

"Either way, you owe me something _epic._ I'll see you soon."

Finn sighed and tucked his phone back into his pocket as he started walking slowly toward the high school. The bonus to it being the ass-crack of dawn on a Sunday morning in residential Columbus was there wasn't a lot of traffic passing by to stare at him and make him feel like a criminal.

Homeless, maybe; but he was, in fact, _homeless._

What in the hell was he going to do?

He sighed. He still had the principal, Dr. Jamison, on speed dial from the time he'd broken his ankle in a rec basketball game right before the start of school two years ago. He would just have to call and ask for a sub…maybe in a couple of hours. That would give him a day to find somewhere to live. He almost wished they hadn't settled two hours away from home. He was sure his mom would let him crash there for a bit until he could get his life in order. She would probably be ecstatic he had broken up with Quinn. Maybe. He was pretty sure.

He roamed his way through the side streets to the high school and he was following the yellow lines on the driver's education range like his own sobriety test when Kurt pulled up right next to him.

He didn't miss Kurt's eyes giving him a once-over as he climbed into the car. But he smelled coffee, and even though he hated coffee he was glad Kurt had thought to stop this time.

"Finn, _why_ do you look like you slept in a gutter? You're still wearing the same clothes you had on last night and… I have a feeling this is going to be a _long_ story."

Finn sighed after he shut the door and smirked at Kurt a little. Kurt had _no _idea. It was kind of nice not to be the only one in the dark.


	11. Really Really One Hundred Percent Happy

**A/N: ** Many, many thanks for the response to this story. I hope you enjoy this part as much as I enjoyed writing it. I had so many friends and handholders and cheerleaders there is no way I could thank you individually except to do it in person.

**Disclaimers: ** See previous.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Eleven: Really, Really One Hundred Percent Happy<strong>

It was only a day later, but everything was so messed up it might as well have been high school all over again. Finn had gotten so used to the major life-changing crap that seemed to happen with the changes in weather back then that he couldn't deny now how nice it had been, in some ways, to be more settled. He knew what to expect on any given day, and it hadn't changed until _he_ had changed it. He _wanted_ to be settled. He just wanted it to be different somehow, so he knew he had to keep from making the same decisions again and again. The big key to that would be not going back to Quinn when Rachel left this time. That seemed to be a pattern he could break.

While he was back home, he thought back to the last time he had been really, really one hundred percent happy. Honestly, it was right after they had lost sectionals his sophomore year. He and Rachel were just starting out together (that whole time was a different kind of happy, but it was still a struggle and he wasn't sure that counted as, like, the _peak_ of happiness because of all the hard times that had happened), glee club had just been given a second life, and that last day of school had seemed perfect. Before all the rest of it. That was the day he wanted to remember. He wanted to be happy to have his life that wide-open. That was when all the possibilities weren't overwhelming—they were just sort of there. He could relax and let it all play out and it would be okay.

He just wanted everything to be okay; especially him and especially _especially_ Rachel.

He hadn't called her yet. His mom had actually been mad at him—_mad_—when she found out Rachel was in town, had ridden back to Lima with him and Kurt, and _still_ hadn't been invited to family brunch. In fact, Rachel had stared out the passenger side window the entire time he'd been in the car. She had sung along softly with whatever random showtune popped up on Kurt's satellite radio (Broadway station, and that was like, the one thing in his life that hadn't changed lately), and just the closeness of her voice had actually sung him to sleep. Okay, so maybe it was only mostly her voice and a little bit the fact that he hadn't slept the night before _at all_.

Anyway, his mom had been mad to learn of the development. In fact, his mom and Rachel were doing some sort of a spa day thing that involved fingernails and toenails and...was it _weird_ that his ex-girlfriend-was-too-small-of-a-word-for-her… his ex-_Rachel_ had gotten along so well that his mom had cried (_cried_!) when Rachel left? And was it weird that Carole and Rachel were now doing some girl-bonding that Carole and Quinn had never done?

He didn't care. He wasn't going to dwell on it.

So he stepped into McKinley, just after the last bell of the day had rung. He had done that on purpose. He wasn't positive that glee club would still be an after-school club rather than a class (it was a class at Bexley and Quinn had chattered his ear off about how that blew her mind when she found out), but he took a chance.

The chance turned out to be a winner. There were a few kids milling around in the room as he walked in, but Schue wasn't in the office yet. The door was open, though, so he took a seat and waited. It was only a couple of minutes before he heard Schue come in and ask (his voice sounded little bit rushed) one of the girls to start the group on their warm-ups before he came into the office.

Schue slammed to a stop when he saw Finn sitting in the chair.

"Finn Hudson?" Mr. Schuester asked breathlessly. "Well this is a huge surprise."

Finn smiled as he stood and turned. "Hey, Mr. Schue."

"I think I've told you to call me Will. I'm not your teacher anymore."

Finn sighed. "I know but it's still weird," he said simply.

Will nodded and smiled. "What are you doing here?"

"I was hoping to sit in on glee club rehearsal. I'm trying to remember being happy and…well…I don't know the football coach anymore. Plus it's spring. I can't exactly sit in on football practice."

Schue laughed. "Yeah. We're getting ready for Nationals so we'll actually be headed to the auditorium. You're more than welcome to sit in. In fact, another one of your classmates is in the auditorium waiting for us. That's why I'm late."

Finn scowled, but not an angry one. Just confusion. "Oh yeah, who? I know a couple of us are in town."

Schue was on the move again. He'd come in to set his messenger bag on the chair and was done with that, and now headed back out toward the group. "Who's here besides you and Rachel? Well…I mean, who that doesn't still live here?"

Finn shrugged. "I just know about me, Rachel, and Kurt. And me and Kurt are leaving tomorrow."

Schue nodded. "Well, it's Rachel in there." He dropped his voice and looked at Finn carefully as he stopped walking. "How long has it been since she was back, anyway?"

Finn swallowed hard. That question made him think about the last time she was here, and he didn't want that memory mixed around with all the other crap that was floating in his head; almost like he wanted to keep it clean or secret or something. "Four years; she came home right before college graduation."

"Have you talked to her at all since then?" Schue asked. He tilted his head and continued on with the next question. "And how's Quinn doing?"

Finn closed his eyes and gave an awkward half-smile. "I've talked to Rachel on and off. Me and Quinn just broke up, so…I assume she's fine but…"

"How long ago did you break up? I just ran into Puck at the grocery store a couple weeks ago and he said you guys were fine as far as he knew."

If there was anything more suffocating than attaching yourself to Quinn Fabray, it was growing up in a town the size of Lima. Seriously.

"I'm still moving out," Finn said simply.

"Do you want to tell me what happened?"

Finn shrugged. "Get to your rehearsal. I just wanna listen for a while."

Schue nodded. "Okay, Finn. Let's go." He patted the taller man on the back and followed him out of the office. Finn just sat in one of the chairs off to the side, listening, and didn't bother saying anything. These kids looked so young; it wasn't lost on him that the kids he taught were now closer in age to these students than _he_ was anymore. So why couldn't he get it right? Why did he feel like he still had so much to learn?

He'd kind of thought he would know it all by now and he would just be happy. Maybe that was the first lesson—he would never actually have all the answers. He just had to get okay with that, now didn't he?

He followed the group to the auditorium, hanging back from them as they mixed and settled into groups of different sizes, chatting casually and laughing and flirting and horsing around in any combination while they gathered their items up for the move to the auditorium.

"We actually have glee as a class now," Schue said walking quickly to catch up with Finn's longer strides even though Finn was just sort of wandering.

"Oh, really?" Finn asked, turning his head and trying to act interested. It wasn't that he didn't care…he just couldn't focus.

"Yeah. We call it show choir. We're just practicing more before and after school because of Nationals."

Finn nodded. He remembered those days. The only time his group had progressed was his junior year. Without Rachel, they had only secured a second place finish at sectionals. It had just increased the feeling of loss. He inhaled sharply. It kind of felt like another failure of his that was directly related to her absence. Could he _only_ be successful if she was around, guiding and encouraging and helping? Maybe life had always been giving him the answers he needed, he had just been too dumb to recognize what it was telling him.

As he walked into the auditorium, the feeling that came over him was nostalgic, but it was the good kind because he could see the back of her head. She had her phone in her lap, the glow of it coming over the top of her head and almost making it look like _she _was glowing. He fought down the urge to hope she wasn't texting _that guy_ (he still refused to think his name). Finn slowed to a stop, but felt like he was moving in slow motion as the current New Directions and their hardworking director moved in well-rehearsed places all around him.

Even with the choice of hundreds of chairs (what? Two hundred and fifty was still enough to pluralize that), he ended up sitting in the one right next to her.

Rachel felt the breeze from him dropping into the chair before she actually sensed that he was there. She turned to her left and looked at him. All she could do was smile. He _did_ look a lot better than he had a couple of days ago when she last saw him. He had obviously slept…and showered…and shaved.

So maybe the stubble was a little sexy and it was just a sign that they were no longer the same high schoolers; the same innocent, baby-faced pair who was destined to just hurt each other and end up right back here. She wanted him to keep the stubble.

He smiled back at her. Her fingers were a deep pink color now, and if he remembered anything about her, it was that her toes would be the same color; he just couldn't see because of the auditorium seats.

"How was your spa day with my mom?" He asked, looking for some sort of an easy conversation instead of all the serious stuff. His head was starting to hurt from thinking about all the serious stuff. He'd come here for a break from it and, by God, he was going to get a break from it if it killed him.

"It was very nice," she said. She finished her text and slid the keyboard back up into her phone before she turned to face him fully. "If not a little strange because she kept pumping me for information about your recent breakup and asking if you and I were headed for reconciliation."

Finn sighed and rolled his eyes. "I know. It's been a day and she's all over me about the same things. I'm sorry about that, though." He leaned over and tilted his head toward her. "It's just gonna take me time to get her some answers."

She let out a little bit of a laugh. "That's certainly understandable. Are you planning on keeping me in the know on these answers?"

He twisted his neck just a little because that was all that was necessary so he was looking at her. Her face was so close. "You'll be the first to know," he admitted. His voice was always a little lower when he was around her. _Why_ was that? "Even though you're moving."

She let out a long breath. "Yeah," she said. Her gaze was carefully trained on the stage. "It's not forever, though."

He laughed a little bit. "You've said that to me before, you know."

Schue's clap brought them out of conversation like they were still guided by their former habits. As he started to talk to the New Directions, they looked at each other and laughed, realizing that they had just done the exact same thing.

There was really very little warning for the leggy brunette who started belting from stage right, walking slowly as she sang.

_I can't imagine any greater fear than waking up without you here… though the sun would still shine on, my whole world would all be gone—but not for long._

There was a guy, the exact same height as the tall girl, looking too much like a surfer for _Ohio_, who started singing almost on a dime in harmony with her. He was walking from the other side.

_If I had to run…_

Finn almost missed Rachel's delicate snort before she raised her hand to cover her face and bowed her head at the same time.

"Wh-what? What's so funny?"

"At least they didn't come in from the back doors," she said softly. He looked over at her, amusement sparkling in his eyes and a smile hovering on his face. He didn't know why but he reached up to pull her hand away from her face.

"We're the only ones who ever really rocked _that_ entrance. I think he knows that."

Her gazed shifted over to him and her smile broke open even as her grip on him tightened a little bit as his fingers slid between hers.

They sat quietly until the second verse started.

_It wouldn't matter why we're apart; lonely miles or two stubborn hearts. Nothing short of God above could turn me away from your love…I need you that much_.

He felt something wrap around his heart and squeeze tight. The second verse was a different boy and girl, but that wasn't his focus. The words were hitting just a little _too_ close to home for him. Rachel was turned forward again, watching the performance intently. He tipped a little more in his chair and pressed his lips to the side of her head. He wasn't sure what exactly _made_ him do it, but he only knew he was sick and tired of fighting impulses when it came to this girl. She leaned a little closer but didn't say anything. He heard her breathing out and heard the contented little sigh, but he didn't say anything either.

They sat like that in quiet silence until Schue turned to Rachel.

"Miss Berry? What did you think? We could use an expert opinion." Schue said. He was speaking a little loudly because they had sat at least two-thirds of the way back. Finn felt Rachel pull away from him, even if their hands were still linked. All he knew was that for those three minutes she was leaning into him, there hadn't been room for the swirling thoughts and the crazy pressure he was putting on himself. And he didn't like that there was space for them to come back in now.

"Your female lead was sharp on the key change," she said simply. Finn ducked his head and smiled widely. She released his hand and stood up. He kept his head low but glanced up enough to see Schue nodding; Schue had known this was the case but had made Rachel do the dirty work for him. Sneaky bastard.

"Excuse me? I was _not_ sharp. You just obviously don't have a sense of pitch," she argued from the stage, placing her hands on her hips.

"Olli, come on," the boy next to her prodded gently.

"No! Seriously, if some teeny little brat I don't even know is going to come in here and criticize my performance, I'm going to stand up for myself," she said. She turned back to face Rachel and Finn. "You wanna come up here and prove to me you actually know what you're talking about, shorty?"

Finn looked up at Rachel with wide eyes. There was a time when she would've had a head full of steam and marched up to the stage, cutting the girl down to size as she marched. Now, Rachel just sighed and smiled pleasantly at the girl; "Olli" was apparently benefitting from the much more mature version of Rachel.

But not _that_ much.

"I will accept your invitation," Rachel said firmly, her voice echoing clear as a bell despite the distance from them to the stage. She turned to look at Finn. "Do you want to come? Their male lead isn't that great either."

"Hey!" The guy next to the bratty girl protested. Schue's jaw dropped a little and Finn fought the urge to laugh.

"What did you have in mind?" He asked, letting her seize his hand again and drag him up to the stage against his better judgment. She was hauling _ass_ and he felt his steps jerking down the slight decline of the floor just to keep up with her as she tugged.

She turned her head over her shoulder as they walked, and he heard her voice floating back toward him. "Do you remember our Madonna mashup?"

It was the weirdest thing. For a guy who couldn't remember anything he was actually _supposed_ to learn in high school, he could remember the all songs they had sung together. He had poured his heart into that (and every, really) duet with this girl and apparently, that meant they were on permanent file in his memory.

"Yeah, I remember," he said simply.

"Good," she agreed. She looked doubtfully at the piano player. It was _not _the same curmudgeonly but talented guy who had played when they were there. "I hope this guy can keep up."

Finn laughed. "With_ you_? Probably not, but it's our only option on such short notice."

She gave him that wide smile he loved so much and shrugged before she went to give her (undoubtedly detailed and numerous) instructions to the poor piano player.

"And who are you?" OIivia whirled around to face Finn where he stood, now on the stage.

"Finn Hudson," he said simply. He'd had practice dealing with abrasive, demanding show choir girls and neither the bluntness of her question nor the tone of her voice frightened him. They didn't really even register. "I was the male lead a _long_ time ago."

She didn't really have a comeback for someone who dealt with her so evenly so she just nodded and moved to the opposite side of the stage. Schue, for his part, was standing in front of the stage with his arms folded, just watching everything play out and barely suppressing a grin.

Rachel helped the piano player move the piano to center stage (in his defense, Finn helped when he saw _what_ they were doing. He remembered chasing her around the piano as part of the choreography so he knew what she was getting at), then she nodded approvingly at him. She turned to focus that same, predatory look she'd had back in the day right on Finn and he felt his heart speed up as he walked slowly toward her. He wasn't playing drums this time. That might change things. He had no idea what to do with his hands. Or his feet.

_Something in the way you love me won't let me be… I don't wanna be your prisoner, so baby won't you set me free. Stop playin' with my heart, finish what you start when you make my love come down. If you want me, let me know, baby let it show—honey don't you fool around._

He felt his breath catch as she started the song off. He remembered how all that had felt—watching her with Jesse, watching her bounce back from Jesse—and how he had just wanted to love her. Now he already knew how he _felt_, but as he watched her, he hoped he could get the right notes and the words out of his throat. Like so many other things, he would've thought this wouldn't necessarily be so… relevant to his adult life.

_Don't try to resist me….open your heart to me, baby, I'll hold the lock and you hold the key. _

He got the words out, even with the right notes attached, and he could see the way it made her feel. He thought he might choke on the symbolism. Yeah, he understood that after the stupid lit class in college.

_Open your heart to me darling, I'll give you love if you… _

She joined him like she was supposed to but then left him hanging (like she was supposed to).

…_you turn the key._

Her eyes were fixed on him as she continued on her own. And God how he hoped what she was singing was real. He knew she could sell it, but he hoped she wasn't selling it for him. He wanted it to be real. Why couldn't life be so clear all the time?

_Something in your eyes is making such a fool of me. _

He echoed her sentiment readily, but he knew he wasn't performing. He was just singing to her. That's how it was with Rachel. He could…he could say stuff like this and it was okay. He didn't have to hold back. He didn't _want_ to hold back. He was sick and tired of holding back.

_You're makin me, you're making such a fool of me_**.**

They launched into their well-practiced (even if it was a long time ago) harmony and he felt the smile creeping across his face. It made it a little hard to get the words out, but who cared?

_I see you on the street and you walk on by… _

He ignored the fact that his voice cracked when she dropped out of the harmony as he echoed. He could only hope she would ignore it, too. It wasn't, like, an _official_ performance. And he didn't do this shit anymore. Not like she did.

_You're on the street, I see you and you walk on by… _

She moved closer to him, her movements focused right on the spot he was standing in and she had that _look_ in her eyes again. It was all he could do as she sang out her line alone. He joined in with his line and it was not just the lyrics she had told him to sing, but it was what he actually wanted. He knew what he wanted.

_When you hold me in your arms, you love me til I just can't see, so you choose to look the other way—well I've got something to say…open your heart to me, baby, I'll hold the lock and you hold the key._

_Open your heart to me, darling, I'll give you love if you, you turn the key…_

He sang and begged while she let it rip on the long note. It totally made him smile. He had really missed this and really missed her.

_Open your heart, I'll make you love me…_

They continued chasing each other around the piano, faster and faster as they sang.

_I'll hold the lock and you hold the key…open your heart to me, darlin', I'll give you love if you, you turn the key… Open your heart with the key._

He remembered when they sang before. They had let the last, perfect note fly and then looked at each other, breathing hard from _working_ hard and wanting hard and… he had been afraid to kiss her back then and she had cut in with her words the duet sounding "really good".

Yeah, that's not how it went down this time.

He was thinking about the songs they had sung, the song she had written that talked about _swallowing_ the key and he grabbed her up against him and just laid one on her. He kissed her like he had never kissed her before. It wasn't tender. It wasn't hesitant or shy or warm.

It was _hot._ It was passionate. It was everything he felt for her. It was just _everything. _Just like her.

It felt like five seconds and it felt like a hundred years until they heard the embarrassed laughter and a throat clearing. The catcall from Schue is what finally did it, and they pulled apart.

He felt himself blush, he saw her blush, and they both ducked their heads down, unable to do anything but stand there and smile.

Finn raised his eyes to hers and his smile just brightened to match hers.

Somehow, neither of them knew exactly how, Schue was on the stage. He patted Finn on the back, reaching up enough to hit Finn's shoulder.

"Nice job," Schue said. He looked over at Finn where the guy's cheeks were also still stained, and decided Rachel deserved some credit, too. "Both of you."


	12. Locked Out

_**A/N:**__ I totally forgot to give song credit where it was due in the last update. The song sung by the new New Directions was __**There's No Place That Far **__by __**Sara Evans feat. Vince Gill**__. So… sorry. I can't promise it won't happen again because I rely on music for so much of my writing. _

_Thanks for the feedback, favorites, alerts, nagging, assistance, handholding…seriously. You all know who you are and what you've done and I thank you profusely. _

_**Disclaimers: **__ Already done. See previouslies._

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><p><strong>Chapter Twelve: Locked Out<strong>

….and then nothing.

It was the story of her life. Rachel flopped back onto her bed and groaned to herself, feeling every inch like the high-school version of herself and not the about-to-have-two-big-breaks version of herself.

There were the facts she wanted to ignore but simply couldn't. Finn had kissed her. On the stage. At McKinley High School. After they sang Madonna.

She lifted her head up from her bed, but the rest of her body stayed slumped. Her room still looked like what Kurt had dubbed "where Polly Pocket and Holly Hobbie come to hook up". She found it oddly comforting to be in those surroundings again, even if she wasn't going to leave the house wearing anything animal-print. Chances were good, honestly, that she wouldn't leave the house at all.

There had been no conversation. There had been no explanation. There had just been a kiss, some blushing, and then two separate people going their two separate ways. She knew from her evenly spaced texts from Kurt that Finn had been safely dropped at Josh and Katie's home somewhere in the Bexley area of Columbus. But she only knew from _Kurt _(who had successfully completed his backtracking in record time after leaving Finn and was next due to text her from his planned stop in South Bend, Indiana). She didn't know from Finn. She didn't know anything from Finn.

Of course, the present-day, adult version of Rachel Berry _did_ have other things going on. Cooper's texts caught her up on the increasing Tony nomination buzz for their just-wrapped play. It would be another couple of weeks until the nominees were announced; either way it was shaping up that she wouldn't be at the ceremony. As dates were pinned down and her equity rep emailed her the latest, the time to London decreased significantly. Instead of being there right at the end of May, it was now more like the 20th. She half expected the steady creeping up to continue until she received a frantic email that she needed to be there _yesterday_.

The increasing urgency didn't make her _want_ to go anymore.

The texts from Charlie detailing the evils of living with "disgusting" Cooper were the only comic relief she had. Apparently Cooper was going to no great lengths to make the transition an easy one—at least not in the first few days. Anything Rachel had sent as a request to do just that had gone unanswered and, apparently, unheeded. It felt like when she used to stand on a chair in glee just to get everyone's attention and then they ignored her anyway, kind of like Finn was ignoring their kiss and what that meant or what it _could_ mean.

In retrospect, maybe going back to McKinley hadn't been her brightest idea this week.

No matter what she wanted, or didn't want, her prevailing instinct was to actually _not_ do anything. While it was true that the high-school version of Finn was a perpetual mess of confusion and drama—who moved at the speed of a tortoise with regards to her and their romance—she didn't really see this particular version of him being any different. His whole life had just barely undergone a major upheaval. It seemed like the entire point was for _him_ to actually do the rearranging.

So high-school Rachel was going to take a back seat. Grown-up Rachel was taking the reins on this one and that meant she would wait for him to call. If he didn't call in time, she would just cry through her whole flight to London or Los Angeles or wherever she was going and then she would find a way to move on. She may have _wanted_ it all so badly she could taste it, but his calling or not calling didn't really change the fact she still didn't have answers to some major questions.

Ironically, it seemed like now he was struggling with the same things in some ways. Kurt had mentioned during their goodbye coffee that Finn was tying himself in knots over this week's contract negotiations at his school. Finn hadn't mentioned any of it to her, but apparently there was talk of a small tour and maybe entering some sort of contest to win a recording deal for his band over the summer. Finn didn't know whether to renew his teaching contract or hope the band finally took off. She knew better than a lot of people what a leap that truly was, but she found the advice to take the 'sure' thing stuck in her throat as Kurt talked. Through all of that, Kurt never mentioned any Rachel Berry-related knots Finn might've discussed tying or untying.

She'd bitten her tongue to the point she thought it was going to bleed—but she hadn't pressed him to mention it, either. She was oddly proud of herself.

But now, not only did her tongue hurt a little bit, but her _heart_ hurt. There had been a strong resurgence of hope occurring, even before he kissed her, that maybe she _hadn't_ burned through all her chances with him. All he needed was the freedom to make a decision and he would choose her and maybe they were actually meant to be together and she was destined for something great and passionate rather than just living with this aching, empty, workaholic hole in her chest. And it felt like high-school Rachel Berry all over again, just hoping that one someone (one _particular_ someone no less) would love her for more than her voice or her stage presence. At the same time, though, she didn't feel right asking for all that quite yet. She was hoping (was almost positive) the Tony nomination(s) would come through and, even though she knew the competition was stiff this year, she was hesitantly confident it would result in a win. She really wanted to win for Best Featured Actress in a Musical, but even company wins would be _huge._ And if she actually pulled off this job in London, she was virtually guaranteed to land a _major_ starring role. Probably her _breakthrough_ role. Hopefully in an original musical. She was _so _close.

But that was grown-up Rachel Berry talking. High-school Rachel Berry was still hung up on her boyfriend and maybe even willing to stay in Ohio if he really asked her to do it for him. She was tired of putting her career first, close to her big break or not. She was tired of having an executive Marriott account and frequent flier miles. She was running out of room in her passport. She had already run out of patience for wandering from job to job without any sort of a base to return to.

She had thought, maybe even right up until this moment, that at some point the grown-up Rachel Berry and the high-school Rachel Berry would merge. Very quietly, she had to admit to herself now that it seemed like Quinn had been right all those years ago, even if the overall sentiment of her diatribe had been selfish. Once Finn was taken out of the equation (if he ever really was), it was true that Rachel couldn't do what she'd been doing to build a resume and build a solid relationship with someone concurrently. The end result would've been her dragging whoever she loved along with her rather than letting them figure out their own path. Even if Finn had come to her in New York during college, he would've just been following her—and he would've probably been as miserable as he was with Quinn.

And of course she had known he was miserable. It was the real reason she had limited their contact so severely. She didn't want to accept that she may not have been any better for him. There was an element of proper timing required that had never, ever been just right. Forcing it too soon would've been a big problem. She knew that now.

So would it be forcing it for her to back out of the job in London? It would be a declaration. It would be a dividing line. And it could wreak utter havoc on her entire career. But it could _make_ her relationship with Finn.

Considering it didn't matter, especially if she went back to the fact that she was waiting on him to figure it out. She couldn't wait around on her career. If there was a nomination and a win of any sort, she had to take advantage of it. She _had_ to go. Ultimately, she was not a huge believer in fate. As much as it seemed like she would be, she actually thought choices played a huge role. Choices were the most important things. And right now, _his_ choice was _the most_ important thing to her. But did he even know he had a choice? Maybe she was just kidding herself anyway. The only way to find out was to call him. And she wasn't doing that just yet—she simply had to keep reminding herself _not _to pick up the phone.

She sighed. If she was going to avoid doing that for one second longer, she probably needed to actually leave the house. She finally peeled herself from the bed long enough to go look out the window. It was a little overcast, probably a little cool given that this was Ohio and it was only late April, but overall she could probably run outside. And it would still beat using her elliptical, even if she hadn't sold the damn thing when she moved into the tiny Julliard student apartment her first year of college.

She had been fairly thorough when she cleaned the room out before she started with Broadway Across America. All the little things that would've been left behind were long since gone and she wasn't sure what the chances were that she actually had any running clothes with her. Charlie was shipping a lot of the stuff back from their apartment for storage. Rachel thought carefully about what she had packed; there might be _something_ she could use, but it wouldn't be what she preferred. Oh well. She would make do.

She managed to unearth a pair of bright pink yoga pants (Cooper bought them for her as a joke because they said 'Princess' across the ass and she hadn't actually been able to remove the lettering. Even _Kurt_ had been unable to get it off—and no, she wasn't sure why she still actually wore them) and a black t-shirt that was strictly an undershirt because it had paint on it. But it wasn't like she was trying to win any prizes—she was going out for a run. She changed quickly and stepped outside before she could change her mind.

But not before she tugged the door closed and _then_ realized she didn't have a house key with her. Damn it.

She rolled her eyes at her own stupidity but continued anyway. She was used to running in Central Park, but she couldn't deny there was something oddly beautiful about Lima. And maybe she could only see it now because she'd been other places and _lived_ other places. At the same time, she understood that there was truth to the statement about never being able to go home again. Even as she traced a path she used to run all the time, she wasn't exactly _comfortable_ there. It felt like she had just paused her life to return. Maybe that's all the whole thing with Finn was—an excuse to pause. And as always, only time would tell.

The first thing she noticed that was _really_ different in the residential side streets she stuck to was the large, cream-colored brick building that loomed in a peak above some of the older maple trees up ahead on her left. The point of the roof's peak was the only thing visible at first and she wondered what it was.

Eventually, she hooked a glance over her shoulder and swung across the street, realizing as she did so that the building was actually a fire station. The one that had been in that spot previously had been condemned, if she remembered correctly; the newer building was beautiful and the red truck, that had been polished to a shine by the man stooped near and currently swiping at one of the large tires, was equally so. She sighed. It probably wasn't a bad idea to stop and see if they could find a way to get her back into her house. It was kind of convenient that someone was outside because…did you just knock at the fire station? She hadn't ever called them, even in New York. She wasn't sure how to go about approaching.

She slowed to a stop and pulled the iPod earbuds, blaring the Tangled soundtrack, out of her ears. Her chest was heaving with exertion and she looked down at herself with a little bit of embarrassment. As she'd left the house, she had consoled herself that she wasn't trying to win any contest. She sighed, though; she had just been busy internally realizing that Lima was no longer her home. Odds were in her favor she didn't know this person.

"Um… excuse me?" She offered. There was music wafting out from inside the station via the open bay door, but he didn't appear to have headphones in or anything else that would preclude his hearing her voice.

He stood up, turned and their eyes widened into matching expressions before he could get his "What can I do for you?" out of his mouth.

"_Rachel Berry_?" He finally said. She pressed her top teeth and her bottom teeth together in an effort to get her jaw off the ground.

"That's still my name," she said simply. She tilted her head and smiled. "Noah."

He took a small step forward and looked almost like a twitch, but he stopped. "What the hell brings you back our direction?"

"Technically, it was an airplane and a ride from Kurt Hummel." She tugged at the bottom of her t-shirt, stretching the fabric away from where it clung to her slightly sweaty skin. "But I have a little break before I have to be in London for a new play so…here I am."

He nodded and gave her a very obvious, leering once-over. "Here you are. You don't look much different."

She let her eyes dance over his face. "You either. Except your haircut. And your _respectable job_."

"Yeah, well… I'm still just a Lima loser. But you…"

Rachel dropped her head as she grinned a little bit. "I'm technically just an unemployed actress."

He heard her words and realized that maybe she had changed a little. Because that sounded disturbingly close to humility and it sounded _wrong_ from the girl he remembered. "And how long is that gonna last?"

She gave a small shrug. "Well, possibly just a few weeks. But…" She thought better of it and left the other half of the sentence dangling.

Puck arched an eyebrow. "Y'know, I talked to Quinn just the other day. She called to say her and Finn had broken up, so I figured you probably wouldn't be far."

She put her hands on her hips. "And just what in the hell is that supposed to mean? It's not like I've come home chasing him."

"No, you've stayed away until the minute he's actually free," Puck snorted. He shook his head and lowered his voice. "Did you break them up?"

"No," she protested. "What business is it of yours anyway?"

"Look, Q is a soft spot for me. Kinda happens after you knock a girl up. It's just the way it is. So when she calls and tells me something major went down in her life, I listen and I start thinking even if I don't want to. Then I'm thinking that if you're here, you might've had something to do with it. That sounds like it would be right up your old alley and that shit is _messed_ up."

Rachel shook her head and rubbed her hands over her face. "We are _not_ having this conversation. None of it matters anyway. I'm not here forever, I'm just visiting my dads and then I'll be gone again. You can all get back to your regularly scheduled programming. But whatever happened between them was not my fault." She eyed him, her glance cold and wary all of a sudden and her jaw clenched. "It just… none of it even matters anymore. I'm only good at _one_ thing and I've somehow always known that."

"Stealing Quinn's boyfriends?" He fired back immediately and by God, it felt like high school. Looking back, he had _hated_ high school. Life was better _out_, even if he wasn't ever leaving town.

"No," she retorted without elaboration. After issuing a sharp glare, Rachel just looked down and kicked at the cement beneath her feet. She absently wished she'd remembered sunglasses as her eyes reflexively narrowed against the dull glare of bright sunshine. She counted as she breathed for a second, unwilling to go down this road any further with him. When she spoke again, her voice was quiet and composed.

"I feel like I'm stuck back in high school. It's like a time warp or something and…it's just really strange and unexpected. _All of it_."

He looked around a little bit. All the other guys were inside doing other station chores. He was the only one out at the moment, and he figured he could try calming down, too. He wasn't even involved in the shit that was going down and he had always, for some weird reason, cared about the girl standing in front of him just a little too much. Especially when she went all wounded puppy on him like that. He figured he could do her a solid and just drop it.

"Talk about strange and unexpected, try having your mother call you up and say she saw that cute girl you used to know on some television show and whatever happened to settling down with a nice Jew," he replied rapidly. "That took the cake."

Rachel scowled. "Did she mean _me_?"

He laughed out loud and reached a hand out to touch her shoulder. "Pretty sure she did, B."

"I'm barely even Jewish anymore," she commented.

His responding laugh was even louder. "You and me both."

"Occupational hazard," she summed up.

"Agreed," he echoed.

She smirked. "So…your being here seems oddly appropriate as I ask my next question," she began. He recocked his eyebrow and waited. "But do you think you could help me get back into my dads' house? I locked myself out."

His laugh was the loudest one yet because, yeah, that was pretty fucking hilarious. "Yeah, basically all my job did is make it legal for me to break shit. If I leave we all have to go, though. Lemme just go get the other guys."

"Should I just start running back and I'll see you there?" She had already turned to start doing exactly that before she asked and she threw the question over her shoulder, expecting she already knew his answer and it would be a yes.

His eyes swiped down her body one more time. He couldn't deny he enjoyed the change of perspective. "Pretty sure you'll fit in the rig with us," he said in a low voice. "_Princess_."

And because it was Puck and it felt like high school and she was still bad at impulse control but much better at flirting now, she turned around and replied simply, amusement dripping from her voice like it was a pheromone. "Promise?"

Both of his eyebrows went up in surprise. Maybe it wasn't just like high school, because Rachel Berry would've _never_ thrown down like that back then. Then again, it sounded like she was just passing through town, so…maybe instead of it being high school again, life was just running repeat. Maybe they _all_ were.


	13. Assuming the Position

**A/N: **Again, thanks for the mad support for this story. I'm glad you guys are enjoying reading as much as I'm enjoying writing it. I truly hope I'm doing the characters justice and I hope you guys continue to enjoy being along for the ride.

So, most of this part is thanks to the brainchild of **wood-u-like-2-no**_**. **_I sincerely hope that I'm getting the band interactions right. It's only through your input that I felt confident enough to even start down this sub-plot. You'll have to keep me in line.

**Disclaimer: ** See previouslies.

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><p><strong>Chapter Thirteen: Assuming the Position<strong>

Finn put his hands on his hips as he surveyed the sheer number of boxes on the floor of the tiny room. They were piled _everywhere_ and he wondered how it was possible he had so much _stuff_. Their apartment hadn't been that large and he had left all of the furniture and all of the kitchen crap except for a few of the crappy dishes he'd had in college and she had done God only knew what with half his clothes and other shit and…he sighed. He was grateful his drums had been dropped off at the practice garage after they played the other night and had stayed out of the line of fire (…or Salvation Army donations). Even though all that was the case, he had his work cut out for him. But it was probably more important that he actually find a place to live rather than unpacking much else. He had purposefully stuck all the stuff he needed to get through the work week in one box (at Kurt's suggestion and he was super glad Kurt had even mentioned it during the drive back from Lima). That box had been unpacked already. Now what?

This was the problem with too much free time. He had too much time to _think_. It had never been his specialty, or really something he even wanted to do. It almost always ended up in thinking about Rachel and…even if she wasn't a forbidden subject anymore, it kind of hurt to think about her.

She was moving to London. There was just no way he could fit into that life. She had a busy, crazy, totally unsettled life. He was never made to be like that. Seriously, look at him. He had technically left his hometown, but he lived just a hundred miles away. And she'd said herself that this wasn't her home.

But, really, couldn't it _become_ her home if she really wanted it to? He was pretty sure if she wanted him enough she could live in the same place he did. She could make choices that would put her where he was.

And all of a sudden, it occurred to him—he expected her to do that, but really, why couldn't _he_? He wanted her to come to him, but now he was free to go to her. And sitting on the verge of everything the way he was, he totally understood all the resentment and bad feelings that came into play when you ignored even part of what you wanted for the sake of another person. He didn't want her to resent him, he had never wanted her to hate him that way, and it wasn't like he had much of a life at the moment.

He'd met with the principal that afternoon for his contract negotiation. He hadn't told anyone yet, other than Dr. Jamison of course, but he had opted out. At the end of the school year, he would be homeless _and_ unemployed. He was so sure his mother would be way proud. In some ways, though, he wasn't sure he'd ever been happier. He felt free. A few days ago when he had thought about it, the freedom was kind of suffocating. His visit with Mr. Schuester cleared things up and now…

There was really only one other time in Finn's life when he had felt this much pressure. Back then, it choked him, just like it had started to now. Back then, it was Mr. Schue that had cleared everything up, too. They had done the "hello" assignment, he remembered, and the teacher had talked to him about figuring out what he wanted and not getting tripped up in anything else 'til he knew that much at least. Well that time, he and Rachel had come together like five seconds after everything with Quinn—

…you know, he was really starting to understand what they meant when they said history repeats itself.

Okay, so now he was older and wiser and all that garbage, right? He snorted even as he sat down on the bed he was borrowing, and he put his head in his hands. All that thinking was going to give him a headache and he was just kind of assuming the position.

So what did he learn back then? He remembered breaking up with Rachel and the way her voice wavered as she told him she was the only person in his life that knew him and was always honest with him. He remembered learning that he never wanted to make her sound like that again. He had repeated that mistake, only the next time it was even _worse_. He was kind of dense; sometimes it took him some time.

So first, he didn't want to hurt her. Right.

He thought back and remembered her telling him to move on because she had. Then he'd just had to basically stand there and watch her date someone else, even though it had turned out to be a huge mistake. He had watched someone else hurt her and it just kind of reminded him he didn't want to do it. Then he had anyway. Dude, what was the next level beyond dense? Shit. He had screwed up with this girl _a lot_. But as he had watched her, he learned something else: she was not someone you wanted to let get away because it had hurt _him,_ too. It had hurt even worse than the crap she had pulled with her poor decisions and her own learning curve.

So, second, he didn't want to be hurt.

Third, he didn't want to lose her again.

Why had all of his life lessons back been related to Rachel Berry? He groaned and tipped all the way back on his bed. He might've assumed the position for a headache, but was there any way to sit when it was headache _and_ heartache? He hadn't eaten anything funky for lunch so he had to imagine the feeling in his chest was, like everything else, related to Rachel.

What about Quinn? Really, he felt totally stupid. He'd gone back to her time and time again when he should've realized it was always going to be the same thing. If it always came down to the same thing with Rachel (that he loved her and he hated it when she walked away), it would always come down to the same things with Quinn, too.

Quinn liked to get her way. Quinn didn't really care about his feelings. Quinn didn't realize that lying and leaving things out were the _same goddamn thing_. (He could thank Rachel for that lesson, too—so, y'know, thanks and a big 'fuck you' to breakup number two.)

What he didn't know was how Rachel had managed to also teach him that Quinn would never stop being like that. Rachel hadn't even been around. Which he supposed explained how he ended up with Quinn (not just again, but again _and_ again) in the first…second…third…fourth…and eighth place.

Fuck, he'd found eight reasons to break up with her and he kept going back? Really, that first time should've done the trick. He wasn't dense or slow or any of that other stuff—he was something worse. He was just plain fucking dumb.

What he really needed to do was to call Rachel. He needed to make sure this time was different than the rest, and the only way he could do that was by talking to her the whole time through. He wasn't sure he was ready to be with her _like that._ It was what he wanted, though. It was what he _always wanted_ if he was being totally honest. Life just kept getting in the way. The timing had never been right. What could he possibly do with all that freedom if not to finally, _finally_ make this time the _right _time.

The hand he'd shoved into his pocket came up empty. Where the fuck was his phone? He'd been, like, all over creation today. At the apartment early to start packing, knowing Quinn wouldn't be there; to work and within the school, he had a whole handful of places he would have to look; to the gym immediately after work for a pick-up basketball game; back to the apartment before Quinn returned from her weekly dinner date with 'the girls from work'. At least he was done packing and moving so he wouldn't have to continue on the "avoiding the ex" circuit again tomorrow. Thank God. He could just be done with it.

When they ultimately moved in together, even though _he _had done the asking they had ended up in her apartment. All the utilities and the lease were in her name. It made this about a thousand times easier and really, he was pretty glad now it had gone down that way. It also just went to show that, even though her conversation with Rachel had been so long ago, she had been pretty intent on staying _on top_. Now he knew where she had been on top—he had let her totally run him down during their relationship and he hadn't even uttered a single complaint about it. He hadn't realized that's what she was doing until he stopped letting her do it.

He changed out of the clothes from basketball because he had to get to band practice anyway, but he patted the clothes down one more time and then gave the messy car a once-over, too. _Seriously, where the fuck was his phone?_ He hoped it wasn't somewhere in the apartment because he had left his key on the counter and he couldn't go back even if he wanted to. But just to be clear, there were like three things he was certain of, and the not wanting to go back there was right at the top of the list.

He drove absently to band practice. They had rented out a space in a garage behind a bar in town; they shared it with two other bands and that was not ideal. He thought if maybe he stayed in town he would buy a small house or something so they could practice in the basement. This wasn't a new thought, it was a random that popped up almost every time he pulled in for practice, but it was the first time it had included 'if he stayed in town'. He wasn't even sure how to explain it to them—the band. He grabbed his iPod as a last second thought. He could at least start by playing the song Rachel wrote if he needed to.

He was the last one to arrive, maybe even a few minutes late because he had wasted so much time looking for his phone. He noticed that Craigger (terrible nickname, but oh well) had set up his drums for him—or tried. Craig was the only one with a car big enough to drive their crap around. They usually played at the same place a few times to help out with that, but the place where they'd played over the weekend wasn't really part of the usual circuit and they had to get their shit out the same night. He still felt kinda bad about ditching out when he left with Rachel because it meant the cleaning up had fallen on the other three guys. And now he was going to tell them he was thinking about going further than just up the street? He sighed. Practice was going to suck today. Maybe he should just keep his mouth shut 'til he knew what he was doing.

"Finnegan!" Josh said. He held up a small stack of paper. "Come take a look at this awesomeness."

Finn scowled and tucked his drumsticks into his back pocket as he walked. He took the pages and it was a few minutes of staring and even an absent yawn before he realized he was looking at an application for Battle of Bands from CD101, a local alt radio station. They hosted this competition every couple of years, sponsored by their parent company. It was part of some nationwide thing for an indie record deal. They had talked about entering for the last couple of years, but this was the first year they actually had enough original material.

As he looked over, he realized it wasn't actually just an entry packet—it was a 'welcome to the competition' packet. His eyes got wide.

"Holy fuck, are you for real?"

"It's a done deal," Josh said. He yanked the pages out of Finn's hand. "We record the demo at their studio over Memorial Day."

"Oh!" Craig said suddenly, standing up from where he'd previously been tuning his acoustic guitar. "By the way, I mentioned that to Doug and they'll let us have the space on Sunday nights, too."

Doug was a guy in another band that rented the same practice space. They had just started playing and weren't ready to try entering anything, so it didn't totally suck if they pulled rank on new guys.

Finn sighed, but Josh cut him off. "Shut up, dude. I know for a fact you have _a lot_ more free time now."

Finn scowled and looked over at him. "How did Katie know I didn't renew?"

Apparently, that wasn't what Josh had been talking about. "What the hell?" He asked. "You didn't re-up?" Josh took a step closer and flicked a glance over his shoulder to make sure no one else had noticed.

For his part, Finn just shook his head.

"You know you can't just live in my guest room, right?"

Finn nodded.

"What the hell are you doing?" Josh said. "First you dump Quinn and move out and now…seriously. What the hell are you doing?"

"Nothin' I shouldn't have done a long time ago," he responded. He cleared his throat. "I'm trying to figure things out with Rachel, I think."

Josh raised his eyebrows. "You're fuckin' nuts. Do not get me wrong, Rachel seems nice from the, like, five minutes I watched her try not to hang all over you. She's definitely hot and from what Katie said, she has a life. But that's the thing, dude. She has a life _without_ you. Is she going to rearrange all that other shit or what?"

"I don't know. That's why I'm _trying_ to figure things out, douchebag. I didn't say it was a done deal."

"Done enough that you quit your fuckin' job," Josh pointed out. "What did she say about that?"

Finn sighed. "I haven't called her yet. I can't find my phone."

Josh cocked an eyebrow even as he snorted. "Dumbass."

"Yeah," he responded, his sigh weary. "I should've done this stuff years ago."

"Just find your phone and call her. That way you can confirm you need a new job," Josh said, moving away. "Actually…maybe you should just start writing our music since you don't have any, y'know, actual demands on your time."

"Fuck you," Finn retorted with laughter in his tone. "But… y'know. Maybe that's not a bad idea. That's kinda how Rachel got me started on all this shit."

Josh stopped and looked confused. "What?"

Finn had already been sitting on his stool (ready to adjust it because Craigger was at least eight inches shorter than he was and, even though he tried, it was always _wrong_), but he stood immediately and pulled his iPod out of his pocket. "Rachel wrote a song. I thought you said Kate told you this shit so that meant I didn't have to."

"No, she did not tell me this shit." Josh accepted the iPod and put the earbud into his ear. "These better be clean."

Finn shrugged. They just came out of his pocket for crying out loud. He reached out to grab the mp3 player back so he could scroll through and find the song. As he looked at the screen, he mumbled to Josh. "So I guess Rachel wrote this song a few years ago and then sold it to some guy for his album. The whole thing started because I heard another song she'd written on some stupid show. Katie helped me figure out what album it was and when I bought it, this is what I heard."

"And how do you know it's about you?"

"I guessed," Finn muttered. The song was starting to play and he didn't want to bother with any further explanation while Josh was trying to listen.

Brandon pulled Finn away for a second to go through some of their songs for the demo, bitch a little about Finn not answering his phone (which—okay, fair enough) and so Josh had to come over and find him once the song was done playing. Finn held his hand out to take the iPod back.

"Damn, dude. And she…you know that's still…" Josh said. Brandon looked back and forth in confusion.

"What's up?"

"Girls suck," Josh said simply before he turned back to Finn to wait for an answer.

"I thought Q was okay," Brandon asked. "Like, you guys were solid."

Finn sighed. "Nah. Well…things were good until they weren't I guess. But they never really were."

"Hudson has an _actress_ chasing him. Apparently, he _always_ has," Josh said.

"She hot?" Brandon asked. Finn closed his eyes, so missed Josh's nod and mouthed "oh _yeah_". "There's nothing wrong with trading up."

Finn sighed and shot Josh a pointed glance. "It is just _not_ that simple," he muttered.

"But yeah, so you know for sure that song was about you _how_?"

"Did you listen?" Finn asked incredulously. He finally looked at Josh. "For every stupid line in there, I remember a conversation or…or…or a moment. If you knew about all that shit…"

"So kiss and tell," Josh said. "Maybe you just need to tap that and get her out of your system or something."

Finn shook his head. "I'm pretty sure it's not how it works."

"….and I'm out. You sound like a girl," Brandon said. He looked at Finn pointedly. "Although it makes for good songwriting, so maybe you should tap into that."

Finn watched Brandon walk over to where Craig was again fucking with the stool by the drumset.

"Are you saying you've hit that?" Josh said, lowering his voice. "Like…not while you were with Q, right?"

Finn's stomach sank. He didn't want to talk about it, but there was really no choice. It's not like he could abandon Josh and just go home. _Josh would follow him because they lived in the same place now._

"Well, it kind of depends on what you mean."

Josh shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. "You're such a dumbass with girls."

"Me and Rachel… all of that _was _a long time ago. Technically, me and Quinn were still together when Rachel left back then—at the end of junior year. But really, with me and Quinn, the whole relationship then was only when other people could see. When it came down to it, we weren't actually _together_. Once she won the whole prom royalty thing…" Finn gave an empty shrug, trying to imply that neither he nor Quinn had really been all that into their relationship. "And I guess now I know part of it was Rachel leaving anyway. Quinn didn't care because she already got what she wanted; Rachel was leaving and wasn't going to be with _me_."

"What?"

"I went to see Rachel before she left and we had sex. And it was totally messed up and she left and…" Finn blew out a shaky sigh. "Then she came to visit me the last weekend I went home before I moved here and…and she stayed to go to all my graduation crap and we kind of partied with that or whatever but.. but then she left and it was totally messed up again."

"Shit…" Josh laughed. "Don't have sex with her again if you're that confused. Sounds like she'll just leave again anyway and I don't really want to deal with you if that happens."

Josh patted Finn on the shoulder and then went to discuss something with Craig. Finn, for his part, was kind of stuck standing there staring after his buddy. Josh had _no idea_. And really, Finn had been down that road too many times. He didn't want to watch her walk away again because it wasn't like he could let her go.

He wouldn't want to deal with _himself_ if he let that happen again.


	14. Stacking Loser on Top of Loser

_**A/N**__: Honestly, at this point I'm not sure I can thank the list of people who have helped me along with this story. You all know who you are and what you've done and I'm positive you can see bits and pieces of your influence as you read. And I thank you all from the bottom of my heart. Just as a reminder, because I pulled lyrics from it again, the song I'm referencing here is __**Replace Me**__ by __**Andrew Belle**__. It's on his EP __**All the Pretty Lights,**__ which I recommend giving a good listen if you haven't because it's fantastic. _

_**Disclaimer: **__See previouslies._

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Fourteen: Stacking Loser on Top of Loser<strong>

Rachel put her hands on her hips as she surveyed the sheer number of boxes on the floor of her childhood bedroom. They were piled _everywhere_ and she wondered how it was possible she had so much _stuff_. Her and Charlie's apartment was not that big. It hadn't seemed that full of crap, either, so what was she to think?

Maybe Charlie didn't _actually_ live there. Maybe Rachel had dreamed up Charlie.

Maybe…maybe…maybe…

She shook her head as she heard the wailing of her phone from so far inside her purse that she couldn't even identify the ringtone. _Her head was just so many places all at once_. As she unearthed the phone and the ringing stopped, she frowned. If she was going to keep missing calls she would have to get a new purse because that was unacceptable in her current line of work (read: technically _none_).

The missed call list said she had missed Kurt's call and she breathed out, relaxing a little. Kurt had been nagging her endlessly for the last three days since he had dropped Finn in Columbus (which was still two hours in the _wrong_ direction for him, but as an only child, Rachel supposed she didn't actually understand anything about brotherly obligation and she wasn't sure she had the cell phone minutes to ask Kurt for an explanation).

Truth be told, though, there was only one phone call she actually _wanted_ to take. But it wouldn't do any good to focus too much on that, now would it? She didn't have any control over that. She repeated the self-help mantra (some called it the Lord's Prayer—and she was usually far too exhausted to ask them how _that_ worked because maybe Jews just prayed differently) in her head. _God grant me the serenity to change the things I can and accept those I can't._

So when the phone rang again from her palm, blaring out one of the factory ringtones, she startled visibly. Then she looked down to see Finn's name on the screen and if it were possible, her heartbeat sped up even more.

She accepted the call and brought the phone to her ear, desperately wishing any of the training about how to 'play it cool' would kick in. "Hello?"

"Hi, is this Rachel?" A female voice asked. The pitch sounded vaguely familiar, but Rachel still couldn't place it exactly.

"Speaking," she replied slowly. The phone _had_ said Finn's number, hadn't it? She fought the urge to pull the phone away from her ear and check.

"It's Katie Jackson," the voice said.

Rachel's memory searched for just a second and landed on a tall, beautiful and sassy girl. Finn's friend. Married to… she couldn't remember the other guy's name. "Um, hi. You're calling from Finn's phone?"

She laughed. "I may or may not have taken it from him during staff meeting when he went back for a second donut."

"Oo…kay."

"Look, here's the deal. You know I teach with Finn, right?"

"Right," Rachel acknowledged. She was still confused.

"Well, he's the physical education teacher and he's damn good at it, except when we have to teach some basic ballroom dancing. And because I haven't had hip surgery, I'm the teacher out of fourth through sixth grades who gets to help him demonstrate. He's not so good at it and I think he would _way_ rather you could help him out because you won't rip his head off. Plus…you know, maybe it would set the kids at ease. You're closer to their size than he and I are."

Rachel laughed out loud. She couldn't exactly argue _that_. She had long ago stopped feeling small because of her stature and had just started wearing heels—as tall as necessary—whenever she needed to. Still, she couldn't argue. "Well…when are you doing this?"

"The end of next week. Thursday and Friday afternoons," Katie said. "And I knew Finn probably wouldn't call and ask you himself. I interfere; it's what I do."

Rachel thought twice before she asked the question. It sounded needy and girly and catty and…she was not particularly any of those things. Well, she tried not to be the first one. The other two depended on the situation. In the end, she just went with it but she had to swallow hard against a dry throat to get the question out. "Does he _want_ me there?"

Katie paused. Honestly, if the previous question about Finn's happiness the other night at the bar hadn't sealed the deal, this would have. Every question Katie had ever had about Quinn, and maybe why Finn hadn't totally settled down with her, was answered while dealing with Rachel. Quinn was more into a tableau than feelings, wanting things to appear perfect and then arguing when her will wasn't met. With two well-placed questions, Rachel had proved she was the opposite, at least about Finn; she felt first and didn't care how that looked. Katie kind of wondered how someone could wear their heart on their sleeve all the way to Rachel's age without being bitter, jaded, and having that quality ruined. Then again, she had wondered the same thing about Finn, too. Katie tried to soften herself down to Rachel's level. At the same time, she had to be honest.

"He hasn't said as much," she started slowly.

Rachel felt a small, sharp stab of disappointment, but she brushed it off quickly. "Well, then thank you for the invitation but…I'm…" she raised a shaking hand to her forehead. "No."

"Really?" Katie asked. "You're just…I mean, that wasn't the vibe I got from watching you guys."

Rachel sat down on her bed, perching daintily on the green microfiber comforter her dads had filled the space with once she'd one-hundred-percent moved out. "What do you mean?"

"You want him," Katie said simply.

Rachel sighed. "I don't know you," she said slowly. "But…I don't _want_ him like that unless he chooses it. I'm not going to say a word about it."

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Katie said, her voice sharp. "He's not great with decisions. Or girls."

Rachel gave a small chuckle. "Yeah, I know. But…but he had his hand forced by someone else for a long time. Plus, that relationship has barely ended. Forgive me for not being convinced it's over; he's gone back to her before." Rachel gave a small sigh. "Not to mention the fact that just_ wanting_ has had some very, very bad results for us in the past. The _wanting_ needs to be paired with something more, and if it's going to come with misery then I'm afraid I just refuse."

"What do you mean?" Katie asked. She wasn't following. She switched the phone to her other ear and balanced it on her shoulder. So, talking to Rachel was turning out to be a lot different from talking to Finn. Rachel used actual sentences and paragraphs. It took actual attention to hold a conversation with her.

"Everything is just so complicated," Rachel said a little sadly. "The greater the intimacy is it seems the greater the complication."

"Well," Katie said slowly. "He's taken some steps lately to uncomplicate it, hasn't he?"

Rachel sighed. She barely even knew this girl. She was _not_ that comfortable opening up to her. "Maybe," she offered. "I need to go but…thank you for the invitation."

"All right," Katie said simply.

"Oh, and Katie?" Rachel said.

"Yeah?"

"You said the other night that Finn had mentioned the song?" Rachel asked.

"Yes. But he _still _hasn't let me hear it," she replied.

"Well…maybe if he's talking to about any of this you should hear it. Just to kind of…know. Maybe that will help him kind of explain it all. If there's one thing I'm sure of, it's that he doesn't have the words to explain any of it."

"Are you going to tell me where to find it, then?" Katie said simply, choking back the chuckle that threatened when she realized Rachel was _exactly right_. "You've written more than a few songs according to Google."

Rachel, for her part just laughed, told her to switch out the stolen phone for a stolen iPod, and gave her the song info. Once they hung up, Rachel realized she wasn't sure if she wanted _Katie _to call her back once she'd listened, or if she just preferred the other girl talk to Finn about it all.

* * *

><p>It hadn't been difficult for Katie to steal Finn's iPod. She knew it wouldn't be from the second she saw him at the smallish kitchen counter, a bottle of Captain Morgan's open beside him and a purple square of paper sitting in front of him. The bottle was nearly half empty and he was kind of staring off into space, using his index finger to absentmindedly twirl the paper around and around. She eyed him curiously for only a minute before she just continued through the kitchen and down the hall into the bedroom he was staying in.<p>

She recognized it was a _total_ invasion of his privacy, but it wasn't like she actually cared about that kind of stuff on the whole. His iPod sat on the tall bureau of drawers in the bedroom, tossed haphazardly with his keys. It took her a second to untangle the headphones from the four keys where the cord was woven, but not too long. She thought about just leaving his phone there, a tit-for-tat sort of exchange, but decided against it. She had a feeling she would listen to the song and then try talking to him anyway. She might as well own up to stealing the phone in the first place—it was the least she could do since he was _already_ losing his mind.

She went into her own bedroom and closed the door. Josh had mentioned he and Brandon were going to stay late at practice tonight; Josh's workload was easy given football season was long over and they had songs to write for their upcoming demo. While it was true they had stuff ready to record, they also wanted something new. She didn't understand; she didn't particularly care. She would see him when she saw him and soon enough her school would be out for the summer too and she would find a way to distract him. She fought the urge to grin wickedly to herself as she perched on her bed and bit her lip. She looked down at the iPod, flipping through the surprisingly diverse selections and finally settling on one guided half by memory and half by instinct. Also, like, half by the "recently played" playlist.

She plugged her ears with the earbuds and hit the center button the dial. She was surprised when the guitar kicked in almost immediately. It was more like a rock song than she had imagined a Broadway performer could write and she realized she had kind of categorized Rachel accidentally. Although she liked Rachel, more than a little given the spark she'd seen in Finn's eyes since the girl's reappearance, she tried to clear that from her mind so she could _really_ listen.

Katie had to admire the balls it had taken for the girl to lay it all out this way. True, she wasn't the one singing. And the album Katie had helped Finn find was a couple of years old so she wasn't sure _when_ the song had been written. She kind of got the impression it was before Finn had moved in with Quinn, or probably even started dating her (again—apparently). There was a sense of possibility, a sense of just waiting on the other person that she knew had given him the sense of urgency and massive confusion he had.

_Straight through the middle of your deepest darkest dream. Oh, I wrote the melody that brought you back to life, love. Come hear it for yourself, oh my love. Come hear it for yourself, oh my love. Who says we're wrong for opening the wrong doors? Love, come swallow the key; you'll never replace me. 'Cause we've both fallen for someone we're wrong for—love, come swallow the key; you'll never replace me._

Katie had been friends with Finn for a few years. He was easy to make friends with, the affable, confident and kind of bumbling kid with a boyish, smirking smile and a huge heart. He still had an innocence she had been unable to resist because she was so the opposite. Even Josh, knowing the truth since he had seen her birth certificate, said Katie's middle name should've been 'skeptical' instead of Anne. She fought the urge to smile as the song played on.

The other main attraction for her, to Finn, was that they were about the same age, even if she was a bit older. Katie had felt out of place at the school for her three years before Finn had come along. The only other person who seemed close in age to them was Quinn, but she had been less than friendly during her year of substituting. Even though Finn and Quinn had hit it off like old friends (because apparently, that's exactly what they _were)_, Katie had been kind of relieved when Quinn transferred to the high school. It was almost like she'd felt the entire third grade unclench once Quinn was gone and it had taken a while for Katie to feel comfortable around the icy girl in more relaxed social settings.

But through all that, even with all the incongruences in what seemed a mismatch between Finn and Quinn, Katie had stood by and watched him open up just a bit to the composed blonde girl and finally move in with her. Although being pushy was more Katie's nature than anything else, she had also kept her mouth shut when it came to the relationship closest to her closest friend. There was always something that made her tongue trip over itself and tie itself in knots when Finn would lament that Quinn wanted to get married but he didn't feel ready and … well, the song she was listening to kind of untied the knots in her tongue and made her want to speak. She hadn't known what was holding her back at the time, but she sure as shit knew now.

He had been wrong. He had been wrong to commit to Quinn in any capacity because she just wasn't right for him. Whether the whole thing had been some grand design on Quinn's part or not, Katie still hadn't decided and Finn certainly wasn't talking. But even the beginning of the song spoke to her because it seemed like maybe Rachel, even years ago, had almost known and resigned herself to what would happen. _But not quite._ She had somehow managed to both taunt and challenge him with the lyrics, all at the same time she was absolving him of guilt for everything. It was a really, really beautiful piece of writing. She clicked the necessary buttons to start the song over. God, no wonder he was so torn up.

_I kept you safe and still, you changed your shape until your weakling antibodies could stand up for themselves. Outside your windowsill, I fell like Jack for Jill and you came tumbling after. So stand up for yourself, oh my love. Stand up for yourself, oh my love. Lest you forget, I'll write this down._

She couldn't help it, and it was just a flash, but she saw a purple note crumpled up in his hand. Had Rachel written him instructions or something? She bit her lip and fought to stay put, to avoid the curiosity in going out to the kitchen and just ripping it out of his hands to read it. She _knew _it wasn't her place. But she so desperately wanted to untangle all this for him. It was becoming clear there was only one way, with only one person, that he would be happy. She had seen it flash across his face and heard it in his voice in a bar. She had felt his eyes bouncing back and forth between her and Rachel and could read the tension in his posture as he played their last set at the bar. And that was all _nothing_ compared to his entire demeanor since he'd shown up at their house.

_You're blaming all this on yourself, but the photograph that's on your shelf is of a younger, dumber version of myself….but anyway…_

Katie sighed. The song was pretty mature, even if the threat of never finding anything better was almost an underlying taunt. Rachel had the perspective, whenever this was written, to accept her own role in whatever their undoing as a couple had been. And even if the song sounded like she'd been hung up on Finn to an almost pathological degree, Katie knew from being around Finn that it hadn't really been like that. She had thought about it a lot in the last couple of weeks and she had barely heard of Rachel at all. It wasn't like the stream of contact was constant, and it wasn't like it was one-sided. She knew Finn had initiated the most recent round of contact between them. She knew Rachel had emailed him or something when he'd gone to New York to see her play (even if he hadn't mentioned names or anything too specific at the time). Regardless, the thin thread of contact they'd maintained had at least been mutual. That spoke volumes.

Maybe she would write a self-help book about this. Teaching fifth grade didn't seem quite like a calling as much as maybe teaching her friend how to live his life and be happy. It was _so clear_ to her what he needed to do. She wondered if he was prepared to actually _do it_.

Once she was done listening through the song, she put his iPod back where she'd gotten it from. She patted the pocket of her jacket to make sure his phone was still in there and then she went back out to the kitchen. There must've been something about the motion of her steps or the heavy thunking of her heels on the tile floor, but this time he looked up.

"Hey, Katie." Finn breathed, the words twisting together with his audible sigh.

She grabbed the bottle that was sitting behind him and she wasn't completely oblivious to the fact that it was now _more_ gone than it had been when she first came in. "Hey," she said. She tried really hard to inject some sympathy or something into her tone other than the apology for what she had to admit to doing. She sank down onto the stool next to him and then took a long pull of the amber colored liquid from the bottle. She winced a little bit on the aftertaste. "Whatcha got there?" She nodded toward the paper he was fiddling with.

He sighed and flicked the piece of paper over to her. He sort of missed but she caught it anyway.

_Well that was easier than I thought. Even if his aim is horrible right now._

The words from the song echoed in her head as she untwisted the paper. It actually fell open quite easily, like maybe it had been folded and unfolded a lot. Rachel's handwriting flowed across the small page in dark purple ink. The handwriting was decidedly more plain than she would've expected, but she found herself unsurprised to see the dulled golden star sticker in the corner.

_ You,_

_Well, here I go. It might not be the way I planned but it's more than I actually dared to hope so I'm taking a chance. What do you say to that? I think I know what you would say because I always know, but that's why I'm writing this down. Plus I want you to remember my words. Perhaps it's silly, but I will always remember you and I want you to remember me, too. _

_We have our whole lives ahead. I don't know what the future holds for you, for me, or for us. But I want you to know that I will always cherish what we have been, what we are, and what we could be. You have the power to be great, but you're already great to me. I hope you come to understand that we could truly be great together. You just have to come see_ _it for yourself, my love. You know where I'll be. I'll be there waiting for you to catch up. _

_I Love You Always,  
>Me<em>

Katie let her eyes trace the page one more time before she bit her lip and folded the paper carefully. She set it down in front of Finn and bumped the bottle toward him, too. He accepted the offer as she retrieved his phone from her jacket pocket and gingerly set it down next to him.

He had finished his drink and set the bottle down with one hand as he wiped at his mouth with the other. "Where the hell did you find that? I've been looking for that."

"You left it laying around staff meeting," she muttered. "But…" She looked over at him honestly and reconsidered saying anything about her phone call with Rachel just yet. "Why the Captain Jack therapy?"

He looked at her blankly.

"Work with me. Captain Jack Sparrow? _Why is all the rum gone_?" She asked.

He still looked at her blankly.

"Okay, never mind. What made you think your liver was optional?"

Finn chuckled and sighed a little bit. "Well, today was my meeting to re-up."

Katie nodded. The uncreative principal did these things in alphabetical order. Her own meeting had been just after school so she figured it meant his was during afternoon recess. "Went that well, did it?"

He glanced back over at her but this one wasn't blank. This one was _loaded_. She was kind of dreading the words he would say before they came out of his mouth.

"The offer was fine. I'm just not sure what to do with the fact that I passed."

She turned on the stool so she could lean on her elbow and gawk at him fully. "_You what_?"

He let a long breath out through his nose and then he turned to mirror her posture. "You know, your husband asked me the same question."

"And what did you say?" She asked. She reached out for the bottle and took another drink.

"That I knew I couldn't live on your couch," he said honestly.

"And what's the _real _reason?" She asked, even as her eyes drifted to the paper that he was fidgeting with again. She knew the real reason; she just wanted to see if _he_ knew the real reason.

"I keep thinking I don't have to be this messed up about Rachel," he admitted quietly. "But it kinda seems like other things are going to get in our way again and I…I know I should go to her but I can't just…"

Katie shook her head and he grabbed the bottle right out her hand while she was raising it for another drink. "Hey!"

"I need it worse than you do," he argued. "I'm homeless _and_ unemployed."

Katie shook her head. "Yeah, you've kind of stacked loser on top of loser there. What in the hell does she see in you?"

He held up the note, flipping the paper knot around in his long fingers. "She sees a lot. I just can't live up to it."

She'd now had just enough to drink that the motion of the paper made her eyes hurt. She slapped her hand on top of his to stop it. "You know where me and Josh were when we met?"

"Yeah," he muttered.

"Well I'm going to tell you again anyway," she said quickly, the words pouring out of her mouth in rapid fire. "I was working in a _bar _with half of an art history degree." She dropped her voice to a whisper. "I minored in fucking _philosophy_." She gave a shudder. "And he was no better—he with his desire to turn pro for football."

"There is nothing wrong with pro football," Finn said.

"Yeah for the, like, less than three percent who make it and don't fuck up their bodies in the meantime like he did. Look, my point is this: we got married because we could get _housing_ for cheaper. I mean, we love each other and I don't regret it. But back then, we were a total mess because love does not pay bills. You can turn a total mess into happy life together. You just have to stick it out through all the losing. What _does _she see in you? She sees someone she loves and wants to be happy. There is nothing else you have to do and nothing else you have to prove."

"At least I don't have a pile of student loans like you do," Finn retorted. His words were slurred. "And what makes you think you know Rachel so well all of a sudden?"

Katie tilted her head and nudged the bottle toward him. "I'll sound better if you're really, really drunk for this part."

"Oh, I'm really, really drunk," Finn agreed. He took another pull from the bottle anyway.

"That's good," Katie mumbled. She was on her way there, too. Josh was gonna be annoyed because she was pretty sure the spiced rum was actually his. "So I called Rachel earlier from your phone."

Finn's eyes popped open and they _almost_ focused entirely. "Why would you do that?"

"Were you gonna fucking call her?" Katie asked. "No, you weren't. But you really should."

"Jesus, Katie, what did you do? I thought not interfering and not bossing people around was your, like, New Years' resolution or some shit."

"Yeah, I gave up on that," she agreed quickly. "I invited her to come be your ballroom dance class teaching partner because I don't want to."

"Fuck, _Katie_…" he breathed out in frustration. "_Stay out of it_."

"Tell me one other time in your life you've been better prepared for any of this," she responded. He was sinking against the stool, his elbows on the tiled countertop and his thumbs in the corner of his eyes. "Tell me one other time in her life she's been better prepared for any of this."

"I don't know!" He burst out. His voice was tense and his shoulders were a hard line in spite of the alcohol in his system. "I don't know, all right! But just because I'm prepared doesn't make me _ready._"

"That doesn't make any sense."

"I just got out of a long and apparently crappy relationship. And I've been in _exactly_ this position with Rachel before."

"I don't think you have," she answered eventually.

"What makes you think this is any different?"

Katie sighed. "Finn, what if there is only one more chance? What if there's only one left and _this is it_?"

He swallowed hard but didn't answer.

"What would you give to be with her? To _really_ be with her? I mean, every day to kiss her and fight with her and have really great make up sex and…and everything? Just _everything_."

"I'd give it all. I'd give anything," he finally admitted. "But it doesn't matter if she doesn't want it."

"She just wants you to give it. She wants you to give it all."

"How do you _know _that?" He asked, finally wiping his hands over his face.

"I listened to the song. I read the note. And I called her." Katie looked over at him and fought the urge to smirk. "At this point? I know _everything_."

"Ah, the sound of drunk Katie!" Josh said from the doorway. She turned in her stool as he walked over to give her a long kiss hello. Right before his mouth dropped to hers, she pushed the phone right in front of Finn. She released her grip on it to take both her hands to her husband's face as Finn picked the phone up and turned it around, the spinning not helping with all the other spinning that was going on.

He'd made her wait for so long. She'd made him wait so long. He missed her. He loved her. He'd loved her all along. And he knew, even as his thoughts were a little overwhelmed and disconnected, that he'd give _anything_ to take that one last chance.

He just hoped to hear her say the same.


	15. Don't Quit Your Day Job

_**A/N:** I think this might be my favorite chapter in a lot of ways so I'm excited to share it with you. In other news, I have received a lot of concerned replies; I don't necessarily want to give any spoilers, but I will tell you that I'm not the type of author who will end things suddenly or tragically. It will be a natural (and hopefully satisfying) conclusion. I am grateful for your love (reviews) and support and I have no problem asking you to trust me. I promise that I'm very trustworthy. But please don't stop reviewing and letting me know your honest thoughts and asking me questions. I'm thankful for each and every one._

_**Disclaimer: ** See previouslies._

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Fifteen: Don't Quit Your Day Job<strong>

Rachel had tried really, really hard to keep herself busy so she wouldn't just call Finn. She had gone through several of the boxes and tried to sort what she would store versus what she would take to London. She had cleaned the bathroom—twice. She had showered, washed her hair and then smoothed it perfectly straight, and then painted flowers on the toes that had been fully pedicured during her girl-date with Carole. That was about the moment she came to realize that she was not meant to be an idle person.

She'd chatted with Kurt for a while, some idle stuff about the fall line he was working on, but they had carefully avoided the subject of Finn. She hadn't even mentioned the weird phone call from Katie, and it had taken some tongue biting. She had long ago realized there was a line in her friendship with Kurt, and she had carefully cultivated her avoidance of that line with a large breach to spare. So tonight, it had been really weird for her to feel the need to watch herself again. She was sprawled out on the (her) bed, looking at the ceiling fan as it maintained its lazy rotation. It was midnight—so why couldn't she sleep?

Oh yeah, because she had been finishing a play at this time nearly every night for the last six months. Sometimes she still forgot that her run had ended and she was in Lima. But all it took was remembering that small detail, and it would send everything else sliding back in, crushing her until she felt like she couldn't breathe. Maybe this feeling was associated with this town and _that's_ why she hated it here so badly.

Her phone rang from wherever she'd left it on the bed after she finished up with Kurt and she jumped a little bit, but automatically dropped her hand and felt around the covers until she landed on it. She closed her eyes even as she raised it to her ear.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Rach," he breathed out. She fought the urge to sit up.

"Hey," she returned cautiously.

"I know it's late. 'S that okay?"

"It's no problem," she said. Her heart was starting to pick up a little. "But…but why? Why are you calling?"

"I thought you wanted me to," he started. He stopped.

She frowned. His voice was so low…and his words were kind of mushy. "Are you drunk?"

"A little," he said. "If a little and a lot are the same."

"I suppose that would depend on your context," she agreed. "And in this case, I'm going to assume the answer of my choosing."

"Whatever that means," he said.

"It means you should tell me why you're calling me at midnight on a Thursday," she said, not unkindly.

"Oh. Right. _That_." He said. She raised her eyebrows. She was not entirely sure she had ever known him to get this intoxicated. "Well, I think the guys want me to write a song. Did I ever tell you the name of our band?"

"No, but to be fair I don't remember asking," she said. There was something about the hour that demanded she keep her voice low for the sake of her sleeping fathers. Then again, it was like her voice was always a little lower when she talked to him.

"Well, when Brandon wanted to quit because we couldn't get a name, all he said was 'if we can't even come up with a band name, don't quit your day job." He sniffled. "And we didn't want him to _quit_ so we just called the band Day Job."

She pressed a hand to her mouth to keep from laughing. "Are you serious?"

"Pretty much," he said. "Is that a dumb band name?"

"Does it matter what I think?"

"No. We have a website and shit printed that says that. And we just got into some contest for an indie record company something or other. It might be too late to change it."

This kept her from laying down and she felt her disappointment rising on a wave crested with a tinge of nausea. She leaned up on her elbow. "What? What…what does that mean?"

"I dunno. Something about recording a demo on Memorial Day for one of the radio stations in Columbus."

"And then what?"

"I dunno," he muttered. "But they want me to write a song about you for the demo."

"About _me_?" She asked. She was totally confused. She hadn't talked to him at all since he had kissed her. And now he was drunk dialing her? Were they still _that_ kind of friends?

"Yeah," he murmured. She heard the phone move a little bit and his voice got clearer. "I think I have an idea. Wanna hear?"

Rachel was _dead_ certain she did _not_ want to hear whatever he'd come up with after something made him get so drunk he'd called her like this for the first time in the history of…ever…in this condition. Her jaw kind of flapped up and down but she was totally unable to get words out and if there was ever anything she hated, it was being rendered speechless.

…_even as I wander, I'm keeping you in sight. _

His words started off in that slow mumble again but then rang out, loud and far clearer than anything else in their conversation. She pressed her lips together, knowing that the laugh that was starting to bubble up would quite likely wake her fathers. Even if her old room was still soundproofed.

_You're a candle in the window on a cold, dark winter's night. And I'm getting closer than I ever thought I might. _

As he mimicked the sounds of a drum, she started protesting. "Finn?" But her soft voice was no match for the fact that he was really getting into it. She upped her volume and tried again, drowned out again by his energetic jump into the main chorus of the song. "_Finn?"_

_And I can't fight this feeling anymore—I've forgotten what I started fighting for. If I have to crawl upon your floor, come crashing through your door, baby I can't fight this feeling anymore._

The last time she called out right as he stopped singing but was taking a breath. "Finn!"

He stopped. There was just a minute of silence, but then he sounded a little lost. "Don't you like it?"

"It's not that," she said. "But I think it's been done before."

"Oh, really?" He asked. "What are the chances?"

She couldn't keep it in anymore and she let out a loud burst of laughter. She quickly pressed her hand to her mouth to muffle it. "Songwriting can be difficult that way. You'll just have to keep trying," she said kindly.

"There's some other stuff I wanted to say," he said eventually. His voice had evened out into that low, slow murmur again and she pressed her phone more tightly to her ear.

"What's that?"

"I don't know if now's the place but Katie said I needed to tell you and she's right. _She's right_. Why is she always right?" He licked his lips quickly and pressed on, the words coming out in more of a rush. "Anyway, she told me that this might be the last good, clear chance I have to tell you that I love you and I've always loved you, from the start and all along and I miss you and I've been away from you for too long and I hate it and I would do anything for you to just know that and I would give anything for you to feel the same way. I quit my job and I quit my life and I just want to start it all over and be with you."

At some point, her heartbeat had caught up with the cadence of his speech and she was pretty sure her heart was in her throat, gagging her for probably the first time in her life. It was not necessarily a pleasant feeling.

"Wh-what?"

"I know you have contracts signed and I have contracts signed and the timing is really shitty…" he trailed off but then stayed silent.

"Finn?" She breathed. She choked on the word a little bit, still feeling winded and totally knocked off balance by the rush of words he'd let out.

"Sorry," he murmured. "I just heard Katie calling Josh 'God' so I figured it was my cue to step outside and I can't walk with the Captain and talk at the same time."

"It's okay. I don't want to talk to you about all this right now." She closed her eyes; she was trying to keep her voice gentle. She knew he wasn't exactly himself at the moment, but that was also exactly why she was so frustrated. She had wanted him to say all of these things for such a long time—she had been waiting and almost expecting to hear them. If he had to get so drunk he couldn't remember saying them to do it, it just made her feel unbearably sad. On top of that, she didn't want him to feel so overwhelmed he turned to drinking as a source of comfort. She had admittedly done that herself, tried drinking to forget, but she knew how extreme the circumstance was and how it hadn't helped anything. She wished she could keep him from feeling that, but he obviously already was.

"I'm kind of fucked up," he admitted sadly. "But that doesn't mean I…I really..."

She sighed. It may not have been the exact route to honesty, but she wanted to get an answer to at least one question before the call was finished. Just so she could make a plan. "Do you want me to come do that ballroom dancing thing with you?"

"Mm-hmm," he murmured. "I want to see you. I _always _want to see you."

"Okay," she agreed. "Why don't you or Katie send me an email with whatever I need to know? Write yourself a note right now so you'll remember."

"On the sidewalk?" He asked. "I think that's where I'm going to fall asleep."

Rachel closed her eyes. "You can't write a note on the sidewalk. You can't _sleep_ on the sidewalk."

"Can I puke on the sidewalk? That might happen, too."

She sighed again. "Will you hang up with me first?"

"I don't want to hang up," he said. His voice sounded like his cheek was pressed against something now. "I don't want to go. I don't want _you_ to go."

"Call me when you're sober, okay?"

"Okay," he said. "I love you, Rach."

Her breath caught in her throat. She didn't know what to say. She _did_ know how she felt, but she avoided the reflexive instinct to say it back anyway because this was not the time or place.

"Wait…did I say the wrong name? I always say the wrong name."

She frowned, her breath even more caught on the lump that was forming. What did that _mean_? Did that mean he always said her name and meant someone else's? Did it mean he meant someone else and said hers? She knew it wasn't playing fair, but she asked anyway.

"Do you know who you love?"

There was no answer on the other end. When the line went dead, she hung up and felt a little numb. She wasn't even the drunk one and she felt a little numb. She really didn't care for the feeling, honestly. As much as she had spent some extra time drinking lately, insanely partying in the face of all her uncertainty, she really didn't like the anesthetic qualities of it. She preferred to _feel_, even if that meant she hurt.

She sighed. She had done enough hurting over Finn, hadn't she? She knew what she wanted to come from all of it, she really did. She also knew she couldn't exactly bend him to her will, as much as that would've been her inclination at a far-distant point. He had to choose it himself or it was worth nothing to her.

She rolled over on her stomach and buried her face in the comforter. She breathed in the deep, familiar smell and let it wash over her. She had been too far-removed from this place for too long for it to really provide much comfort. Did that mean she was beyond comfort? She wasn't that despondent.

What did he mean he quit his life? She knew he'd broken up with Quinn. They hadn't talked about it, but that much _was_ obvious even without getting into the details. All the lack of conversation meant was she didn't know how he felt about that. But that was no different than anything else these days. They hadn't talked enough for her to have any sort of a grasp of the true situation.

He had blown back into her life like a hurricane and she didn't yet have enough information to put anything together. Plus it seemed like he'd been continuing on a path of destruction. He quit his _job_? _Why_ would he quit his job? And what was all this stuff about a band competition? Of course she had _known _he was in a band. They had chatted idly here and there about how he wanted his band to be a success. If that was all what was going on, maybe he had quit his job for that and not for her. She sighed.

Being objective wasn't her specialty and now she remembered why: because being objecting felt a lot more like being crushed than continuing to believe the sky was the limit.

The really heartbreaking part for her was she _knew _what she wanted him to think and feel as much as she knew she couldn't control it. And he had said all the perfect words just now on the phone, even if they were jumbled together and pressed into the world's longest sentence. She wanted him to love her and to miss her and to be willing to be with her in spite of the difficulties. She wanted him to _choose_ her. And it wasn't as simple as a choice between two things—a choice between her and anything else. There was no competition. It had been a long time since all the high school melodrama of Rachel versus Quinn, even if that's how it had seemed to still be playing out. No, now Rachel was afraid of something worse than a girl she could never be friends with. She was afraid he just didn't feel the same way and, as the song said, _you can't make your heart feel something it won't._

She blew out a shaky breath. She needed to tell him all of this, didn't she? She needed to stop refusing to communicate with him at the very least. She hadn't ever actually laid it all out and in person and allowed him to organize a response.

She hoped she hadn't waited too long. She'd made him wait so long and she had spent all that time missing him and loving him and hoping that he'd loved her all along in the same way. She knew all the words she wanted to say, and she knew where she wanted it all to go.

She just hoped to hear him say the same. And preferably while he was sober.


	16. Random Declarations of Incoming Vomit

_**A/N: ** Mad props to Lizzie (**Paceismyhero**), **wood-u-like-2-no**, and the Fildos for the variety of hand-holding that went on here. They make my guys sound more like guys and the principal sound more like a principal and just yes…all around awesomeness. Mad props also to everyone reading and replying—it makes my day! Last, the lyrics Finn is working on do belong to an actual song, but I'll wait a little longer to tell you which one._

_**Disclaimer: ** See previouslies._

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Sixteen: Random Declarations of Incoming Vomit<strong>

Finn sighed and scribbled over what was on the page again. This time when he started over, it was three quarters of the way down the page. He rubbed a hand over his head as Josh came into the room.

"Whoa, dude. You look like _ass_," Josh said as he moved toward the cupboard.

"Shut your fucking mouth," Finn muttered as he pressed the pen back to the paper.

"I hope you called in sick."

Finn looked up, pulling all his attention from what he had been writing, and gave Josh a seriously annoyed look. "Yeah, considering school gets out in forty-five minutes."

"Oh yeah," Josh said slowly. "It's Friday today, isn't it? I guess that means I should figure out what Katie wants me to make her for dinner."

"You guys are nauseating."

"Pretty sure we aren't the reason you were throwing up half the night."

"Pretty sure the thin walls in this place didn't make it any better," Finn retorted immediately. He sat back in the chair and rubbed both his hands over his face, completely forgetting the pen that was laced through his fingers.

Josh gave a dry laugh as he leaned on the counter across from where Finn was sitting. "You just fuckin' wrote on yourself, idiot. And why is your cheek all red?"

Finn pulled his hands away to throw the pen at Josh—_hard_. "The sidewalk isn't a very good pillow. In case you needed to know."

"I haven't needed to know shit like that since college," Josh said simply. He double tapped the counter and then stood up to start looking through the fridge. He and Katie had date night in their bedroom every Friday when she got home a little earlier than normal. It was always a trick to find something to eat that wouldn't ruin their sheets.

Finn looked back down at the page and was struck with something. He reached for the dictionary next to him and started flipping through it as he spoke. "Hey, give me my pen back."

"You say that like I stole it instead of you threw it, jackass," Josh said sternly as he stooped down to pick it up from where it had rolled under the cabinet. He slapped it back on the tile and then leaned over.

"Whatcha got there?"

"Right now, kind of a mess. But it might turn into song lyrics if I look at it long enough," he replied dismissively as he kept looking.

Josh smirked and lifted up the sagging corner of the book Finn held. "And what is it you need a rhyming dictionary for?"

Finn looked up at the blonde man and sighed. "Is there a _good_ word that rhymes with gold?"

Josh leaned into the counter a little bit, his posture sagging as he thought. "Mold…bold…fold…cold… I can't think of any." He reached out and twisted the notepad toward him. "You know what, though? That line sucks anyway."

Finn scoffed. "Thanks for your input, dude. Step off."

Josh rolled his eyes. "This is good…." He pointed to another spot on the page. "And these two go together. How are you so fucking bad with women but you can come up with shit like this to say? Put it like this: too long, too late – who was I to make you wait?"

Finn's mouth turned up into a smile. "I'm not that bad with women."

"Really?" Josh looked around. "Where are they then?"

Finn swallowed hard and looked up at him. "There's only one I'm interested in. This is all for her, man."

"I got that from 'I have loved you all along'." Josh tapped another spot on the page. "Seriously, what made you think of half this shit? You're not going to get sued or anything are you?"

Finn sighed and set the pen and dictionary both down as he raised his hands over his head. "No. I had a dream or something…I don't know. It was all in there. It was like I was just…talking to her and all the words I needed to say kind of came into my head."

Josh looked at him seriously. "And you _trust_ that? I've known you for a while and I've never seen you spontaneously think of the right words to say to someone."

"I don't know. I just know they're there," Finn said simply. "And Katie is right—I gotta do something and it has to be epic because Rachel deserves epic and…I've fucked it all up for too long. So I'm writing a song for her."

"And day one: post massive hangover is the best time for that?" Josh asked doubtfully.

"That's what I've got so I'm using it. Any other ideas?"

"You could call her. Or email her. Or somehow otherwise try direct contact. Chicks dig direct."

Finn snorted and reached for his phone. "How is fucking email direct contact?" He shook his head. "But, yeah. I sorta get it. I keep thinking I need to call her and tell her something…or like there's something I'm missing, you know? Like maybe she and I had plans, but I can't see why we would have."

He had a couple of texts and an email and he sighed. He had put his phone on silent when he woke up this morning (shut up, this afternoon, all right?) because he'd immediately sat down to work on the song. Maybe that had been neglecting his current responsibilities. Even though he felt like the bottom rung of the loser ladder at the moment, he _did_ have to finish out the school year. As much as he wanted to enjoy freedom, he did have actual responsibilities.

He scrolled through the text messages and was surprised to see he had one from Rachel. He frowned and double clicked on the screen.

_Notes on sidewalks aren't usually effective. Please remember to get me the details for your ballroom dancing class next week so that I can attend. _

He frowned and looked away from the screen. What the hell? He didn't remember that and… notes on sidewalks? Like how would you even do that? Maybe that's what sidewalk chalk was good for. But the text was from kind of late last night so he wasn't sure he could just go outside and…

He noticed another one from her tacked onto the same thread. This one was from this morning according to the timestamp.

_Will you just text me so I know you're not dead on a random sidewalk please? I'm kind of worried about you, actually._

Okay, that was twice she had mentioned sidewalks. And twice she had texted him? And what…the…

_Fuck_.

His hand was shaking as he flipped through screens to get to the call log. And there it was, in big fucking glowing green letters. He had called Rachel while he was drunk. His heart sped up. He had called _Rachel_ while he was _drunk_. What had he said? What had she said?

"You look like your phone just took a shit in your hand," Josh commented.

"I think I drunk dialed Rachel," Finn said. The _dream_? What if it was real? He told her loved her…like present tense and a bunch of times… that was not epic. That was… well, that was par for his life. That was a way he would screw things up. _Again_. "I'm gonna puke."

Josh was used to working with college football players. He could handle declarations of incoming vomit with ease. He reached for a large bowl that was in the sink and slid it over to Finn in the nick of time.

Finn looked up at Josh pathetically and just shook his head.

"Okay, friend. In the spirit of _that,_ I'm introducing a couple of new house rules. First, no stealing my rum. Second…I'm taking your phone the next time you steal my rum." He pulled Finn's notepad out from under the bowl and looked over the page again. He flipped it in his hand and pointed to one of the first sections Finn had crossed out. "And third is use that 'cause it's good."

Finn narrowed his eyes and looked at the part Josh had pointed to, his blurry eyes only sort of able to make out the words that were so obscured.

_I wanted you to stay and I need to hear you say that I love you and have loved you all along_.

Could his drunk subconscious be speaking "Rachel" again? His head had a way of talking like her sometimes, just like she'd had a way of sounding like the little voice in his head. Either way, he knew he had to call her now 'cause she was worried and he was an idiot.

He made quick work of washing out the bowl _and_ his mouth before he went to his room with the notepad and phone to call her. He totally wished he'd grabbed the bowl again when a wave of nausea rolled through him while her phone was ringing.

"Hello?" She asked, dragging out the word in a low and slightly amused voice.

"Hey," he said. "So I guess I owe you an apology."

She gave a small chuckle. He could imagine the way her whole body used to curl into a phone call and he smiled as she replied. "Well…it depends on what you were going for, I suppose. I was slightly entertained at times."

"Do I even want to _ask_?" He said slowly. He dropped onto the unmade bed but stayed sitting. "Actually, don't answer that. I don't want to ask and I don't want to _know_. I'm so sorry, Rach." He cleared his throat. "I'm not sorry you're on my mind all the time, though."

There was a long delay before she answered, and her voice was less than calm even as she tried to make it appear casual. He could _totally_ tell that's what she was doing. "I'm not sorry about that part, either."

"There's a bunch of stuff I want to say to you….y'know… sober," he finally said. Her chuckle made it easier. "But I want to say it in person so I can watch your face."

"Why would you want to watch my face?" She asked.

"Because sometimes your face says stuff your mouth doesn't. At least, it does to me," he whispered. "And this is super important stuff."

"I agree," she said simply.

"So will you come to the ballroom dancing thing next week? I know it isn't, like, a _thing_ but I also know Katie called to invite you before when she stole my phone and…" he sighed. He shook his head. He needed to, like, catch a wave and _quick_.

"Yes. I would love to come if you really want me to," she said. Her voice was soft.

"I definitely do. You can even come sooner if you want. And stay longer." There was a long pause before she answered. He didn't know if that was a good or bad thing. He couldn't just let the silence linger, though. "I…I have a lot to tell you about."

"You do?"

"Yeah," he said. "There's a lot I can't wait to tell you about."

"Does it involve the reason you were so drunk you don't remember calling me last night?" She asked slowly.

"Maybe a little," he agreed. "But I could also use your help with something."

Long pause. Long pause. Was she shifting through possible reactions or did she just not particularly care what he had to say now that he had ruined everything with his stupid drunken mouth? He was just opening his mouth to try again when she spoke.

"Like what? I'm clearly not good with my own life, and while I used to think I was good with other people's lives, I think now that's not the case either. So I may not be able to help you. But I'll try."

"I—actually _we_ need help picking songs for a demo we're going to record," he said, chickening out at the last possible second. "Since you're the only person I know who has actually done that, I was hoping you could help."

"Oh," she said, her tone a little more bright. That wasn't exactly what she'd been expecting.

"Yeah," he said. "So if you could come up Wednesday night, that would be great 'cause that's when band practice is. Then we'll do ballroom dancing crap on Thursday and Friday and then…" he closed his eyes and wished he didn't feel dumb and awkward before the words even came out of his mouth. "And then maybe on Friday night we can go out."

"Like…"

"Like there's a karaoke bar a few blocks away that we sometimes go to on Friday nights," he said. He totally left out the mention that it was usually Quinn who had dragged him there and it only worked on the rare occasion his band wasn't scheduled to play elsewhere. In all reality, though, he'd always found himself comparing the singers to Rachel and had wanted to hear her there, singing right in front of him again. It was just one of a thousand things he'd missed and holy _shit_ had his head ever been in his relationship with Quinn in the three years they were together? How did he just fail to notice that until now?

He'd actually said something about exactly that one time. His drunk mouth really should be shot. Seriously. He had told Quinn that Rachel would sound better on a particular song and that was the last time, as far as he knew, that she'd ever set foot in the bar. So at least he didn't have to worry about her being there.

"I don't understand. How can you go to a karaoke bar when your band usually plays on Friday nights?"

He shrugged. She couldn't see that. "Well, just when they aren't we go sometimes and we aren't doing anything this Friday and…y'know, Josh and Katie might want to come if you want to go not just us so…"

Seriously, Finn hated the loaded silence that occurred between them. Being on the phone for this kind of thing _sucked_ and he was just now realizing that one of the things he'd really missed over the last few years was asking her a question and seeing the answer before she said the answer. He was struck again with that stabbing longing. He just wanted to see her.

"Are you asking me on a date?" She finally asked in a neutral voice.

"It depends on your answer," he replied.

"I…I would love to go on a date with you, Finn." He could hear the sound of hesitation and he was dead sure, the longer he listened to her breathing through the speaker, that he was about to be turned down in some big-worded way. She was just lining it up. But then she spoke, and her voice was impossibly tiny and low.

"But are you _sure_?" She breathed. He almost would've missed the words entirely if he hadn't been so focused on her reply.

Before he could answer, the click of call waiting beeped in and he bit back a sigh. Of course they would be interrupted—weren't they _always_? It sucked. There was always someone else around, someone else in the middle, just someone or something else. He really needed to just get her alone. Then again, other things seemed to get in the way there, too.

"I'm _so_ sure," he finally replied. "Hang on just a sec."

He pulled the phone away from his ear before she answered; it was someone from the school calling. He flicked a glance to the clock. School was out, had been for just about fifteen minutes, and there was no way _that_ was good. Katie would've been calling from her cell phone. In fact, the only person who would be calling from a school number at this time of day on a Friday was the principal. That was probably bad; the principal usually saved notifications of "concern" for Friday afternoon—the kind of thing where he'd ask you to reconsider if you wanted to work there or not.

"Rach, it's the school. I gotta go," he said quickly. It beeped again.

"Okay. Call me later," she said simply. Then she was gone. He sighed and switched over to the other line.

"Hello?" He asked, already feeling a sinking feeling in his stomach. Rachel hadn't answered him, now he was getting in trouble, and he was pretty sure the rum wasn't entirely through with him yet. Today officially sucked.

"Hey, Finn. It's Dr. Jamison."

Finn rubbed his hand over his face. He knew that was going to be the case but it didn't make him any happier to hear the stern voice.

"Hello, sir. What can I do for you?"

Another long, loaded silence. These people were going to kill him with their silence today. "Well, did you get my email?"

He vaguely remembered now that he'd had two text messages from Rachel and one email. He probably should've checked the email first, looking back on it, but as soon as he'd… well, whatever. It didn't matter now. He _really_ needed to pay better attention.

"I'm sorry, no."

"That's okay," the older man intoned. "I just wanted to talk to you and I was hoping you would feel up to calling in once school was out. Obviously, you can disregard that now." He cleared his throat, not waiting for Finn to say anything. "This week has given me some concerns."

Finn sat back on the bed a little bit, shifting his phone to the other ear and bringing his ankle up to rest it across his knee. "Concerns? About _me_?"

"Yes," he said bluntly. "First, you call out for Monday and state that you just needed time to get your personal life in order. You've had a stellar track record for the last three years, came highly recommended from the school where you completed your student teaching time, and we've never had any major issues. One day to get your affairs in order is understandable."

"Um…thanks?" He asked. He sunk a little and scowled his confusion.

"But then you opted out of your contract yesterday."

Now, even as the man's voice took on an unusual edge, Finn _knew_ there was nothing that could be done about that. It was Finn's choice, plain and simple, and anything they chose to do afterward would look like retaliation. Quinn had dealt with a similar problem at work just the spring before and then yesterday, when he decided to opt out, he'd recalled everything he learned. The contract for _this year_ was still in effect. It was still his responsibility to honor, just like it was theirs. Even if that were the case, though, he stayed silent. Dr. Jamison apparently took this as an invitation to press forward.

"And then Mrs. Jackson came in this morning to notify me that you'd been ill all night long and had been unable to even notify me of your condition directly—none of which is according to our policy with regards to taking sick time. Thankfully, she was here early enough I arranged a substitute."

Finn sighed and let his shoulders relax with the exhale. He closed his eyes and willed the pounding in his head to quiet down _just_ enough he could actually hear the sound of his job being taken away _over the phone_. And… had he _really_ asked Rachel out on a date? He was just about to fall off the lowest rung of the loser ladder. Her unemployment was temporary and apparently he was _earning_ his.

"First off, I have a responsibility to your students and their parents," he eased in smoothly. "Please tell me you plan to show up for the rest of the school year—_all of it_—regardless of the status of your personal life and regardless of your future plans."

That was the problem, wasn't it? _Future plans_. He didn't have any. He wasn't sure he wanted any—outside of the following Friday of course. He _knew_ he wanted that. He was sure. He was_ so_ sure.

"Finn?"

"I'm sorry," he muttered. He dropped his head. "I—I…none of this was planned. I'm sorry."

"I'm glad, but I need more than that."

Finn kind of felt bad doing it, but he thought maybe Rachel could help him here. He wasn't sure she would mind. "I will be there. One of the things I've worked on today is having a professional come out to assist us with the ballroom dancing unit at the end of next week."

"_Really_?" Dr. Jamison asked, his tone instantly changing. The man was all about 'expert' and 'professional' opinions. Finn knew this. He just specifically managed to avoid saying what _kind_ of a professional Rachel was since her profession was only _sort of_ related.

"Yeah," he said simply. "A friend of mine went to Julliard and she's in town. She agreed to come help us out."

"Well that's…unexpected. And outstanding," Dr. Jamieson said. "We will see you on Monday then. And Finn?"

"Yeah?" Finn asked, just wishing the conversation could be over.

"Just…on a more personal note, I'm kind of worried about you. Please just give me another month without it affecting the kids? Just…you'll be free in a month—unless you reconsider. We'll consider this conversation unofficial for now and you can let me know if things change and you change your mind."

"Okay," he said. Offering thanks didn't seem appropriate, so he didn't. And he started to reconsider things in general as he felt _grateful_ for the wave of nausea that rolled through him. What a thing to be grateful for. "I'm sorry, I have to go."

"All right," the principal said. "For the record, you sound _terrible_."

"Feels that way, too," he offered meekly before he just hung up with nothing further tacked on the end; it's not like he wanted to get into any of the whys, hows, or anything like that with anyone, and especially his boss.

For all the uncertainty and the things he hadn't meant to happen in the last week, endangering his job was right at the top of the list. He hadn't meant to undo his whole life or feel like he was coming apart at the seams. He didn't mean to revisit every decision he'd made in the last decade and try to take most of them back. But he actually felt okay about it. He felt like he should maybe take advantage of it to get himself in order, to build something he could be happy with. Those parts, he felt _sure_ about. He was sure this was the only way he could do it. He was _sure_ it actually needed to be done. He _was sure._

He didn't mean to ask her on a date, but he really did feel _so_ sure about that, too.

He just wished he felt more sure she wouldn't walk away again. He wanted to be sure she was as sure about this stuff as he was. But maybe that was the problem—how sure _was_ he?


	17. The Weekend Beginning on Wednesday

_**A/N: ** This is one of those parts that felt like the last uphill push before things start to move a little quicker. I hope you're all enjoying the ride. I invite reviews and opinions either way. I do not share Finn's views on constructive criticism. Mostly I'm just thankful for the support and I'm so, so glad you're enjoying the read as much as I'm enjoying writing._

_**Disclaimers: **See previouslies._

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><p><strong>Chapter Seventeen : The Weekend Beginning with Wednesday<strong>

Rachel sighed and put her hands on her hips as she surveyed the contents of her suitcase. She'd rooted through the items shipped from New York to find the duffel bag she was after, but now even that seemed like a vast cavern compared to what would be required to last her for three days. She had become a packing expert during her life on the road and it seemed ridiculous to cave to excessive luggage for something like this.

Something like this? Could it be so easily quantified?

She cinched her ponytail tight against her head again and put her hands back to her hips. Her phone chirped from the bed beside her bag as she was finishing her mental checklist. She picked it up and was shocked to see the text message from Cooper.

_Whatcha doin?_

She rolled her eyes and zipped the duffle bag closed before she tugged it off the bed and over her shoulder. She hit send on the phone call to his number and removed her keys from the dresser as she moved out of the room.

"Hey, Ray." Cooper said casually. "Driving, I guess?"

"Almost," she admitted. "I'm headed from my dads' house to Columbus for the weekend."

"It's still Wednesday, right?" He asked, his voice confused and maybe just a little mocking. " 'Cause I thought Wednesday was more like the middle of the week than the end."

She hit the button on her Daddy's keychain and then used it to pop the trunk in the fancy double-click way he'd shown her. Maybe if she bought a car, she'd feel like a for-real actual adult instead of a vagabond. Then again, if you had a car you had to actually _park it_. Also not her specialty.

"Yes, it's still Wednesday." She decided to bypass his usual smart ass banter; she had too much on her mind to possibly try being witty on top of being utterly confused and so excited to see Finn she thought her hummingbird heart was going to fly out of her chest. That was also not including the bomb her dad had dropped right in her lap this morning about a rather impromptu retirement party they wanted to plan while she was actually in ton, but… she wasn't thinking about that until at least Saturday.

"Well, it works well for me that you'll be in Columbus," he said. "I wanted to come see the zoo."

She swung the duffle bag into the open trunk and then snapped it closed before she leaned back on the car. "There's not a single thing about that sentence I actually comprehended."

Cooper sighed and she heard a lot of deflating in the sound. His normally somewhat happy tone was gone by the time he spoke again. "My love life is rapidly turning into a flaming disaster that could rival _yours_."

"_Thanks_," she said sourly. "Didn't I tell you I'm going to see Finn?"

"No, actually, you didn't."

"Oh," she said simply. "Finn asked me out on a date." As he started to voice his protest, she moved into the driver's seat of the car that was only about six months old. She had no clue how to drive it and was honestly slightly amazed her Daddy was letting her in the first place.

"Doesn't Finn have a girlfriend? Like—one he lives with?"

"No," she said quietly.

Cooper didn't say anything. "So…just like that… you guys are…"

"We're nothing. We're going on a date," Rachel protested, the words stinging as soon as they left her mouth. It didn't feel right, exactly, to call Finn nothing. She'd come to the conclusion during the last four days that they were _something_, it just remained undetermined exactly _what_ that might be.

"On the weekend beginning with Wednesday," he finished smoothly. "But only when it snows in August."

"Shut your mouth," she said simply. "My point was that my love life hasn't gone down in flames."

"Not _yet_," Cooper said. "I guess, technically speaking, neither has mine. I mean… if you tell a girl you love her in the middle of an epic blowout and she tells you to get lost so she can think…there's hope there, yeah?"

"Oh my God," Rachel gasped. She almost dropped her phone and had to steady her grip. "You told her? You _finally _told her?"

"I finally told her," he agreed. "And now I'd like to come crash your weekend and see the Columbus Zoo. I hear it's great this time of year."

"When are you leaving?"

"I can pick up my rental car at three o'clock."

Rachel looked at her watch. "So…now?"

"Yeah," he agreed.

"You're _driving_? That drive takes forever. Are you by yourself?"

"No, Charlie kicked me out then decided to tag along."

She finally reached out to twist the key in the ignition and start the car. "If I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times. Your sarcasm has no place in our conversations, Cooper."

Cooper sighed. "I'm driving by myself. I have all my stuff and I'm in a cab to the car rental place and then I'm leaving. Can I come stay there or no?"

"What about auditions?"

"Help me with a tape," he said. "Maybe if I put your name on it, I'll have a job offer dropped into my lap."

"Not without my stellar songwriting abilities," she commented quickly.

He laughed loudly and she felt a little better. The thing was, Charlie had this cataclysmic love life and a pathological fear of commitment. It probably wasn't that she didn't have feelings for Cooper, it was that she didn't know how to identify or act on any feelings she might have. She just needed time to catch up. Rachel was secretly a little glad she would be in London for that train wreck, even if that wasn't entirely supportive or friendly. She knew they had potential as a couple; she was good with spotting the potential, but she had already learned that she was horrible at predicting fallout. She didn't feel comfortable actually offering comfort but she wanted to make him laugh.

"Okay, well…I probably won't be there until…how long does it actually take?"

Rachel had successfully maneuvered through the non-existent midday, midweek traffic and was now waiting at the stoplight to hook a left onto the freeway, so she took a second to consider his question.

The low drone of non-descript rock music was humming through the car and she found herself drumming as she thought it through a little bit. The drumming made her think of Finn. She had noticed, even as they were driving back to Lima or just in the short time she'd spent with him, that he could often be found tapping his foot or substituting his fingers for drumsticks. He was always in motion, always hammering to an imaginary beat. She found it quite endearing.

"It's about ten hours, but I suspect you are the type of individual who drives with a lead foot, so it might be a little less. It's just over five hundred miles."

"You're like an encyclopedia. Do you come with full mapping and GPS capabilities or am I on my own from here on out?"

"I've had good reason to search the distance between New York and Columbus," she returned quietly, ignoring his joke entirely, as her drumming ceased so she could drive onto the freeway.

Cooper was silent for a while and she couldn't hear any background noise; she thought for just a second that her phone might've cut out. But then he spoke and his voice was low enough she had to press the phone to her ear a little harder to hear him. "Is this really all working out the way you want?"

Rachel was slow to respond. "It might be. It's just going to take more time to figure out," she said simply. "I'm certainly in no rush considering he just ended a serious relationship."

"Well and you just ended a major one-night stand…maybe I'm not in a place to start a relationship, either. Maybe I should just say that to Charlie."

She huffed out a breathless little laugh. "Cooper, it's not the same situation. Me and Finn…well, we've been hanging onto this for a very long time and I fear for my sanity if I don't figure it out now," she sighed. "At the same time, he needs to figure it out first. That's always been the case and is now currently the problem. I'm not doing anything until he shows me he is ready—or tells me. He wants to be face-to-face for the conversation."

"But what if he's not? What if Charlie isn't?"

"Well, then I guess you and I will maintain the pact to marry at the age of 65 so we don't die alone," she said simply. "I will be in Columbus until at least Saturday morning. I have a hotel room arranged and you're welcome to stay there with me. I'll call and change to a room with two beds."

"Why bother with two beds?" He asked, injecting something false and flirtatious into his voice. "Maybe I need to forget something."

Rachel laughed and shook her head. "I'm hanging up. Call me when you get into town."

"Okay," he said. He wasn't being serious they should hook up, even if he felt like he could use the ego boost.

"Drive safe."

"Okay, Ray. I'll talk to you in a while."

Rachel had barely tossed her phone onto the passenger seat when it rang again. She sighed and pulled it to her ear without even glancing at who was calling. She had a feeling she knew.

With the mood Cooper was in, he would probably do this no fewer than three more times while they were both driving. Driving was not sufficient distraction for people like them, who's minds could wander endlessly through the same territory when they least wanted to think. She hoped cell phone service in Pennsylvania was spotty so she could focus once she was with Finn. Even if the offer had been a ploy just to see her (and he'd basically said as much), she intended to give his band her full focus once she arrived.

So, she answered with her protest already in her voice. "Cooper, I'm driving—"

"It's…I'm not him," Finn said slowly. He had to admit his heart sank a little if that was the knee jerk reaction she had while answering the phone.

He felt instantly better when he heard her voice, though, and the tone had changed entirely. "Oh, I'm sorry, Finn." She reached out to turn down the radio even more. "Hello."

"I just wanted to make sure you're on your way," he said. The undercut of excitement in his voice was almost palpable.

"Yes. I'm on my way. I'm nearly to US-33," she said simply. That was the main road that would take her into Columbus. She was that close to him—she couldn't fight the smile.

"Good," he said. "Okay, well, school just got out so I'm gonna finish up some stuff and then I'll see you in a little bit."

"Okay," she agreed. "Do you want to just meet me at my hotel? I don't know my way around extremely well and I'm not very used to driving as it turns out."

"H-hotel?" He asked. "You're…" he cleared his throat and tried to knock the surprise out of his voice. "Where are you staying?"

"The same hotel Kurt and I were at last week," she said quietly. "I thought it best…and then Cooper said he wanted to come out for the weekend."

"Wait…why?" Finn asked. He sounded kind of confused and maybe a little sad.

"He just needs a friend," Rachel said.

"But…but isn't he…why does he have to come _here_?"

She sighed. "I don't know. Is that okay? Or would you rather…he can just stay in the hotel room with me, honestly. It's not like…"

Finn sighed. Life _sucked_ when he didn't really have a fucking leg to stand on. And he knew what a good friend Rachel was and how good she could be at comfort when life fell apart—hello. She had done that for him way too many times for him _not_ to get it. Even if he wanted to trip this guy down the stairs or something, he couldn't actually, like, try to deny the kind of comfort Rachel could provide. He could only hope she wasn't feeling that giving while she was going on a date with him and supposed to be loving him. He just needed to see her and get everything clear and get everything _started_. He needed to give himself a leg to stand on.

"We'll just have to talk tonight while we're alone then," he said quietly. His voice turned on the next part and even he was a little uncomfortable with the wry dissatisfaction in it. "Let me guess… that guy went to school with you and he probably majored in dance so he wants to come help out with the dancing."

Rachel tried not to laugh. Once upon a time, she had been totally unaware of the snarky little remarks Finn could make and how petty he could truly be when it came to her. As an adult, she understood and recognized them far better. It made her feel good though, in a way, because the last time he had been jealous enough to speak that way, he'd been in love with her.

"No, not even a little. I haven't told him about it; plus, he hates little kids. We had to do some Broadway in Schools thing in college and he totally froze up on stage at the P.S. 234. He says kids make him more nervous than adults because they tend to be more brutally honest."

Finn smiled and gave into the opportunity to tease her a little bit. "And he still hangs out with _you_?"

"It's called _constructive criticism_," she offered in perfect diction, although anything annoyed she felt was totally false.

"Yeah, that's bull shit. That's a nice way of saying you're cutting someone down."

She rolled her eyes and couldn't fight the smile. "So I'll be there soon."

"I can't wait," he said simply.

Rachel looked down at where she had set the cruise control to perfectly match the speed limit. She bit her lip as she pressed the accelerator down, breaking the preset program and allowing her to speed up. She'd never exactly been one for driving fast, but…then again, she'd never been one to delay gratification either. As his lowered voice seeped through her veins, she knew just seeing him was all the gratification she needed. "Neither can I," she agreed. She ended the call and tossed the phone back onto the passenger seat before speeding up a little more.

It felt like maybe saying she couldn't wait was the understatement of all time.


	18. The Easy Way Out

_**A/N: ** Again, I hope the band interaction is accurate. This is one of the parts that seemed like filler at first and, once it was on the page, actually became pretty important. I certainly hope it isn't too heavy or too sappy for anyone. Please let me know. I appreciate all the reviews and use them to try making my writing better. Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, supported, cheered, corrected and otherwise helped me out. You're all amazing!_

_**Disclaimer: ** Been done before._

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><p><strong>Chapter Eighteen: The Easy Way Out<strong>

Brandon slid up beside where Finn sat, twisting screws a little to tighten up the snare drum that had been rattling and bugging the shit out of him for the whole practice.

"So, um… who the fuck is this chick you brought?" Brandon asked in a hiss. Rachel had excused herself to find a bathroom, which meant she had to leave the garage area they were in.

"'scuse me?" Finn asked, sitting up to look at Brandon. "I told you. Her name is Rachel. She recorded a demo of original songs when we were in high school. She offered to help us pick a few songs."

"No, I remember that but I mean who _is _she?" He asked. "First off, I swear to God I've seen her before."

"She's done a couple things on television," Finn said with a shrug. "She's an actress, but mostly she does stage stuff."

"That's not where I saw her," Brandon muttered. He was still wearing a smirk, though.

"Do _not_ do this," Josh intoned dryly, seeing the comment Brandon was going to make about Rachel having "starred _in his dreams"_ from a mile away. Finn looked over at Josh and then looked back to Brandon with a frown. Brandon _had_ kind of been watching Rachel, but Finn had figured it was mostly because he was up and able to move around more as lead singer. They hadn't showed her any of their stuff with keyboard intros yet, so if he'd had an instrument at all it was a guitar—and that meant he was wandering around. Brandon had, like, adult-onset ADD and couldn't sit still unless he was forced behind a piano. It was one of many reasons he was a good lead singer.

Now he kind of wondered, since all he'd seen was the back of Brandon's head, exactly what had been happening with the front of Brandon's head. What had he been saying or doing to her? And why would that thought make him feel a little sick?

"Look, she's taken," Finn finally said, muttered was more like it, and he stooped down to look at the screw he'd still been tightening when Brandon had approached.

"By _who_?" Brandon asked. "She said she didn't have a boyfriend and we all know Quinn has your balls in her purse." Josh had been frantically shaking his head and making a cutting motion across his throat and, as soon as Brandon's words came out, Josh came over.

"Dude, just shut the fuck up," Josh said. "Seriously, the less you know about it the better. And what are you, fuckin' high or something? We already talked about this, asshole. Plus, we don't really need Hudson to kick the shit out of you because you ran your stupid mouth. She's taken."

"Does Katie know about it?" Brandon asked, whirling on Josh.

"Yes, Katie knows about it, asshole. I do _not_ fuck around. You know that. Just shut up before you piss us all off."

Brandon shook his head. "Look, I still don't see what the hell I did. Hudson brought a smoking hot girl with him who says she's unattached. That's kind of my fucking area of expertise. What's the big damn deal? "

Finn finally stood up and he squared his shoulders. Honestly, he was just going to stretch, but Brandon didn't need to know that just yet. All he needed to know was that Finn had a good three inches of height on him, and probably outweighed him by at least twenty pounds. "The big deal is that you can't have her. When I said she was taken, I meant it. The rest of it is none of your business, so just shut the fu—"

And Rachel came in just as the swear word started to leave his mouth. His eyes widened and he stopped talking in the middle of the word.

Josh looked back and forth between Finn and Rachel, and then looked again about the time the smirk that was dying to form could no longer be restrained. It would just be too easy to harass Finn, so Josh settled on Rachel and on being nice instead. "Did you find the bathroom okay?"

"Yes," she said. "I really hesitate to ask when it was last cleaned, though."

That broke the tension that had been building quite nicely and everyone laughed. She winked at Finn and his eyes stayed in their wide, puppy-dog stare. Had she _heard_ all that? Was she letting him know it was okay? Was she saying thank you? Why the hell didn't he _know_ what she was thinking?

She walked over to him about the same time Craig drew the other guys' attention away by cursing loudly and kicking an amplifier he'd been messing with during the awkward conversation. Finn was really no good with those anyway, so he was okay with her coming to him and the rest of them going over to the other side of the room.

He reached back to tuck his drumsticks in his pocket out of habit and she traced a finger along the cymbal with a ringing scratch.

"You guys are totally going to win this thing," Rachel said softly.

He smiled. "So you like what you hear?" She nodded her response and he continued. "So where's all the constructive criticism you promised?"

She gave a shrug. "I decided you were right. It's just bullshit. But I was wondering one thing."

He wasn't sure which stunned him more: being told he was right or her casual swearing. It took him a second to catch up. "Shoot."

"Do you have anything a little slower? Maybe a ballad?"

"You _would_ look for a ballad," he said. His hand shot out to squeeze her arm affectionately and she smiled then stepped a little closer. "And we don't have one, at least not yet. I'm working on a slower song."

She bit her lip and smiled slowly. "Well, does it tell a story? Because that's what makes a song a _ballad_. It's all about the story."

Finn sighed and thought about the messy tangle of words scribbled across what was now four pages sitting on his nightstand. "I think it tells a story," he said simply and he shrugged. "I dunno what you'll think."

"You-you want me to look at it?" She stammered. She held up her hand. "Wait, you're _writing _a song?"

His face fell a little bit. "Is that lame?"

"No," she breathed. "It's wonderful. What kind of a story do you think it tells?"

Her eyes were shifting back and forth and his couldn't pull away while she was looking at him like that. He wasn't sure where he actually found the words to answer, but he moved his hand from where it still rested on her arm to tug on the loosely curled end of her long hair. "The only one I know how to write."

She was still looking at him, but she pulled her arms around herself a little tighter as she asked her next question. There were so many things about him that she didn't _know_ any more and it made her sad. "Have you, um, have you written a song before?"

He shook his head.

"Well, I would be honored to help," she said simply. She stepped into him again and he closed his eyes and pressed a kiss to her forehead while she continued. "I hear it's always kind of difficult the first time. I know mine was."

His lips were brushing against her skin as he spoke and his hand was curling open and closed as he rubbed it against her sweater in that ever-present imaginary rhythm he moved to. She gave a shaky sigh and he issued his question. "Does it get easier with practice?"

Her hands clutched at his shirt and she stammered through her answer. "Y-yes-yeah. Well, yeah, I suppose it does. Like everything else."

"Hey, Finn!" Josh called. His voice wasn't sharp and he seemed almost hesitant to interrupt. "We're ready to get started again. Drums aren't really optional."

Rachel stepped away and anxiously tucked her hair behind her ears as Finn tried to shake off the bubble that had just broken, submitting them back into reality. "Okay," he spoke. He cleared his throat and glanced at Rachel with a sheepish grin that kind of matched hers. When he realized she was looking, he could feel his face turning red and it was a little harder for him to breathe.

Brandon looked pointedly at Josh; Josh was strumming idly at the strings on the bass guitar strapped around his neck and chuckling to himself about seeing Finn so…just…_lame_ around a girl. Brandon interrupted. "So, dude… does that mean that girl he was dating is free?"

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><p>When all was said and done, they didn't get back to Josh and Katie's house until nearly midnight. The rehearsal had started to take a serious turn south with no less than three equipment failures, plus Brandon's slightly leering comments to Rachel were setting Finn on edge and he kept totally blowing it, even in sections he never dropped.<p>

They had stopped at McDonalds to grab food on the way, with Rachel pleasantly surprised they even had any of the few menu items she would eat left. Finn was so tired from the long night of playing and all the other overloads that he didn't get as much food as normal and he didn't inhale it like a total pig, either.

Now they were sitting on the couch at Josh and Katie's house. The homeowners were already in bed and the house was quiet and still. Rachel had lain back with the official copy of the Tangled movie script she had received in the mail a couple of days previously at her dads' house. The last email had stated that her main objective was adapting the movie soundtrack into the stage script (which was still being adapted). She honestly didn't even know how to prepare for it and figured she would just listen to the soundtrack, read the movie script, and see if anything occurred to her. So far she was coming up with zero and, even if she didn't mention it, she was frustrated.

There was something in her breathing that told him how annoyed she was. As he was looking over his notepad with song lyrics, he'd heard her tense exhale. He finally pulled her legs up into his lap and rubbed at her calf muscles through the yoga pants she was wearing.

It was all just _so_ casual. He knew this was like a preview—what his life _could_ be if he let it. He had to admit, it wasn't so bad. He was kind of having fun, actually, maybe just because she was there.

At some point, with his hands on her legs, she set the script down and watched him carefully. He was just staring at whatever he'd scribbled on the page and wasn't paying attention to what his hand was doing.

She fought the smile that threatened when she looked at him. She knew this was how it could be. It could be as simple as them, in the same time and place, still doing basically two different things but still together. She knew he would also try to help her if she asked. In fact, it might not be the exact same scenario, but long ago, they _had_ been like this. They had spent hours like this when they dated, with her doing homework and him doing…well…sometimes homework and sometimes something else. She looked down at the pages in her lap. She'd spent enough time with them that the new paper was already starting to curl. It was a symbol—a reminder of the fact that, regardless how it seemed in this perfect and quiet moment, she had to go at some point. It was like the real world was waiting on the doorstep and if she went before they worked this out she had a nagging feeling they never would.

Her quiet sigh did at least penetrate his world and he looked over at her, blinking once to emerge from whatever he was thinking before he smiled at her.

"What's up?" He said gently. They'd been sitting still for a while now and his voice was sleepy and unused as he spoke.

The gravelly timbre almost made her shiver a little. It wasn't that she was opposed to telling him, but rather she wanted to change the subject. "Whatcha got there?"

His eyes dropped back to the page that was propped on the arm of the couch and then back to her, right in time for him to toss it over to her. She caught it easily, ignoring the script that slid out of her lap.

"This is the song I'm writing. I'm having a hard time getting it all together. Tell me what you think."

She nodded, already smoothing the top page and settling the legal pad in her lap. "Okay. Do you have a tune in mind?"

"Not really," he said. "I was going to try and just get some lyrics down. Brandon has a couple of chord progressions and stuff he's been messing around with. I might see if it fits with any of those." She nodded again. "If I don't have to hurt him."

Her eyes came up from the page in her lap to regard him with some amusement; again with the thinly-veiled jealousy. "I appreciate your desire to defend my honor or whatever misguided malapropism you choose to apply—" she began, but he cut her off.

He raised an eyebrow. "Midnight," he said softly. The corner of his mouth quirked up. "It's past midnight. Dumb it down. Put the big words to bed."

"Don't worry about it. I can handle Brandon. I think he's mostly doing it to get you all worked up anyway. Don't cause problems with your band just for me." Somehow, she managed to avoid smiling as she rephrased, but it was a close call.

His hand squeezed just above her knee. "All right."

"Finn…" her eyes were dancing over the page in her lap and her tone was completely different. It was quieter, a little more uncertain.

"What? Is it that bad?"

When she looked up, she had tears in her eyes, but she shook her head immediately. "What is this?"

He swallowed hard and couldn't break eye contact. "It's…it's…" he shook his head and started over. He was a grown up now. He could explain himself. He should be able to explain himself. "It's the song I'm writing…and it's for you."

She looked at him for a long second, her stare serious and steady. When she finally blinked, two small tears started rolling down her cheeks but he didn't have the chance to lean and wipe them off because she was tossing the page aside and she was suddenly in his lap, her knees on either side of his hips, and she was kissing him.

It took his head a minute to catch on, too wrapped up in the feel of her warm hands on his face and the feel of her lips on his, her tongue brushing against his bottom lip and begging to be let inside. He finally managed to disconnect from the feel enough to actually touch her, wrapping his arms around her waist and crushing her to his body.

She wasn't totally sure it was actually _real_, even as she ran her fingers through his hair and as she pressed herself against him, finally settling into his lap and feeling the hard press of his erection through the smooth fabric of her pants. His mouth dropped, undoubtedly guided by a long-forgotten and freshly restored habit as his tongue darted out to wet a few special spots on her neck before he sucked just hard enough on the skin to pull it into his mouth. She pressed down against his body harder, aching for relief. It had been _far_ too long and he knew all the things to do that would just set her on edge. He didn't even have to _do_ anything, he just had to be close. Sometimes he didn't even have to do that if the last ten years were any proof at all.

She sighed and her eyes fluttered open. She was surprised, really, to find her eyelashes tangled together and wet with tears. He kissed her cheeks and then opened his eyes, looking at her seriously as he brought his thumb up to where his kisses had just been.

"What's all this?" He asked, his voice even more hoarse than before.

"I..I…" she dropped down, resting her butt on his thighs as she moved her own hands to her face with a little embarrassment. "You forgive me for going away?"

He looked at her openly, honestly. "Of course I do."

"I didn't want to leave you," she said. "I still don't."

"So _don't_. Please don't," he replied. He was tangling his hands in her hair. "Please stay with me."

She frowned, still looking at him. "I..I.. are you sure that's a good idea?"

He shrugged. "I dunno. I mean…it sucks when you leave so it would be way better if you stayed, right?"

"I can't always stay," she finally admitted in a voice that was so sad he didn't think he ever wanted to hear it again. "You know that, too." She dropped her head so she didn't have to watch as he closed his eyes and sighed.

"I have a lot to tell you about the last few days," he said eventually. He was looking down, not looking at his face, even as he rubbed his hands over her arms rather nervously. "I don't really know where to start."

Rachel took a deep breath and what did it say if he recognized her breathing? She was gathering strength.

"Maybe you should start with the last time we really talked," she suggested quietly. "Tell me what happened with you and Quinn."

His hands dropped to her thighs. "Yeah, okay." His eyes followed his hands, watching as he rubbed them back and forth, back and forth; like maybe the touch would just keep reminding him this was all really happening. "I got home and I was so mad. I couldn't wait to talk to her."

"Did you wake her up to dump her?" Rachel asked. Say whatever you wanted about Finn, he had never been _cruel_. Sure, he could unintentionally blindside with a harsh comment, something that usually came out wrong, but that was kind of an acceptable personality flaw as long as it wasn't intentional. She wasn't sure she could reconcile one and the other.

"No," he said. He closed his eyes. "Not exactly. I mean, I knew I didn't want to wait to tell her, but it just woke her up when I came in and when I saw her, the words came out of my mouth."

"What words?" Rachel asked. Her hands were clutching at his shirt as she asked him the question, even though her voice lacked the intensity of her posture.

"Just…just that I didn't want the life she chose for me. I wanted to make my own choices."

"What else?" She asked, biting her lip and running her hands over the soft cotton of his t-shirt.

He closed his eyes, raising his hands to hers and wrapping them around her fingers but not pulling her away from him.

"I don't want to talk about this," he admitted. "I don't want…I just…"

"We need to talk," she said softly. "Even when we don't want to." She sighed and cast an errant glance at the notepad that had landed awkwardly and sideways. "What you have written there says you want to make this work. So let's make it work."

He raised his eyes, looking at her and she felt him tense up a little bit underneath her open palms. "I kind of just want to keep you forever. When you leave, it sucks so bad and I…I don't know if I can take it anymore, Rach. It hurts. I don't want it to. I just want it to be easy."

"Was it easy with Quinn?" She asked, wishing she could strain the hurt from the question, but needing an answer all the same—even if he whipped that ability to kill her with words out of his back pocket.

"Well…yes. The leaving was the easiest part because she kept looking at me like she was just right—she thinks she was right. Did you know it was _her?_" He demanded, but then he continued and just let the words pour. "She sent the tape of your song to the guy in Los Angeles and…she's always been in the middle and she kept telling me that I can't be alone and I'm only good enough to be with her and not good enough for you and…."

Rachel shook his hands off of hers and raised her palms up to his fuzzy cheeks. She planted them there firmly and gave him a soft kiss to shut him up. When she pulled away again, to sit back on his thighs, she spoke calmly. "I knew it was her all along," she whispered. "There's nothing we can do about any of that. I may have guessed at some of her reasons, but… none of that really matters now. Why was it easy with her?" She redirected his attention, needing him to focus and actually answer the question.

"It was easy because I'm not sure how much I cared about it lasting," he said. "And she just kept talking and talking and sounding so _sure_ she'd been right. But I kept thinking about how I only feel right, I only feel like I'm me, when I'm with _you_. And not just, like, _with_ you but even when I'm… it was good when we came to visit you in New York. It was good every time we were on the phone and…I just don't know how she could think everything she did was right when she was just putting herself in the way _every_ _time_. All I could think about was getting her out of our way. So it was easier with Quinn, but only when I didn't think about you. And it's easy with you because you're _you_." He was breathing hard, looking at her with a scowl. "Wait…you knew she did it and you went anyway?"

The tops of his ears were red and she could see it starting to spread into his cheeks. She hadn't really expected that to make him angry, but she continued in an even tone and hoped he would understand. "Back then, I had two things to my name: ambition and a _lot_ of fear that I could never make it. So I took the hand up and…and no, I don't regret it. Regret is a useless emotion anyway and I have no place for it in my life. I _can't_. Because I'm still not positive it was _right_. Although, if we're here right now, there must have something in those choices that made sense for me because I could end up right where I wanted to be."

"And where is that?" He asked.

"I know what I want," she replied. "I'm just not sure how to get there. We have options, you and I—if we'll really look at them."

He nodded. "I quit my job," he blurted out. His eyes looked at her, like for her real reaction, and all he could see was shock. She even choked a little bit.

"I'm sorry. You did what now?"

Finn cleared his throat. "I didn't renew my contract. Once school gets out this year, I'm unemployed."

"Why did you do that?"

"I want to be free again," he said. "I don't totally get why I do _anything_, but I know the last time I got caught up in the sure thing, you…like, the _best_ thing got away. I can't be happy without the best thing because the rest of it is just crap."

"I don't want to tie you down if you need time to be free. That's one of my major concerns here; that you just aren't ready. You are not the kind of person who can wander as aimlessly as I have been, so…I mean… are you sure I'm the best thing for you?"

He tensed again. "I'm sure of you, but… _you_ just think I'm a Lima loser, too?"

She looked almost disgusted. "There's a term I have not personally used to describe someone in my entire life and I had kind of hoped I would never even _hear _it again," she scoffed. He looked kind of chastened, but his jaw still didn't relax when his eyes did. She continued. "You aren't a _loser_ Finn. You need something you can count on, though. You have never handled change well, and my entire life is built on change. I know I'm going to Los Angeles in a few weeks. I know a couple of weeks after that I will be London. I theoretically will stay in London for about six months or maybe a year. After that…I…" she gave a small shrug as the words trailed. She didn't know what to say because she didn't know where she would be after that.

"And are you happy?"

Her mouth was still hanging open while his quiet words cut in. She closed her mouth and stared while she considered what he had asked. The words floating on the page in his handwriting, which was still exactly the same, floated through her mind.

_Too long, too late, who was I to make you wait? Just one chance, just one breath? Just in case there's just one left. 'Cause you know that I love you, I have loved you all along and I miss you, been far away for way too long. Is it just dreaming you'll be with me and you'll never go?_

She felt a painful squeeze; there was no way she could be happy because she knew how those words felt. She had lived it. She'd been living it since she had left him. There had been happy moments, sure. She was happy _at times_. But was she happy in an overall sense?

In an overall sense, she was missing far too much of herself to be totally happy. And she'd known that all along, even if she hadn't let herself admit it very often.

"I'm happy right now," she said. "But if you're asking if I'm happy with my life, the answer is 'only sort of'."

He looked at her honestly. "Then stop asking me if it was easier with Quinn. 'Cause the answer is the same. Only sort of. Like it was easier because I only sort of cared and I only sort of love her. It's easier when I'm with you because I'm _happy_."

"And you can honestly say that, even with all of this stuff and all this time in between?"

"I can honestly say I would do _anything_ to be with you and for you to just…just let me. Is that too hard? Is that asking too much?"

Her breath caught in her throat as she looked at him. Just letting him love her _had_been one of her biggest challenges way back when. She found it impossible to believe that someone would accept her for who she was but would also draw the line and tell her when her crazy behavior was unacceptable. She'd found it impossible to believe the guy she had thought was so dreamy and perfect loved her just the way she was. Of course, she had learned time and time again that he wasn't _perfect,_ but being perfect and being perfect _for her_ were two different things. And he had been perfect for her. Every flaw that she hated in herself, he was the antidote; every question she had, he could answer—usually in less words and less awkwardness than she would. Every decision she made, she had found herself wondering if he would approve and occasionally even calling to verify. Every time she needed support and would stand still long enough to _let_ him provide it, he had been there. Every time she had needed someone to help her feel better or more resolved, she could count on him to do it. No matter where he was, what he was doing, or who he was _dating_. Their sporadic contact had been her lifeline. Was it so hard for her to just let him love her?

After the world's longest silence, he started to think maybe it was one of those questions he didn't want her to actually answer out loud. He already knew the answer anyway. None of it was _easy_. But that didn't mean it wasn't the best way. And he wondered if maybe he had quit his job to get one last obstacle out of the way. If he was _free_ then he was _free _to go with her. He was _free_ to love her. He was free to put all of his energy into it, no matter how hard she was going to make it.

But for tonight, he just wanted to take the easy way out.

"I'm super tired," he finally said, running his hands over her thighs again. He smirked at her, and in that small smile she saw hope that she could struggle and just answer him later. They had _time_. It wasn't something she was accustomed to. "So…can I just…can we be done talking and go to bed?"

She let out a squeaky little laugh as she looked at him, even when he stood and picked her right up off the couch with his hands on the back of her legs, bracing her in the air against him as he walked.

"Actually, I lied." He said. "I'm not giving you the choice this time. You're staying."

It didn't _really _matter. They wanted the same thing. It seemed like they wanted _all_ the same things. So she just wrapped her arms around his neck and held on tight. He wrapped his arms underneath her to support her as he walked and returned the favor, holding them together and keeping her close like maybe that was his _new_ job.


	19. Not Glad I Forgot

**_A/N: _**_Okay, thank you for all the glowing feedback from the last part. I'm glad you enjoyed it and saw positive signs of progress. I'm sure this part will only increase that feeling and since I needed some happy thoughts for today, I decided to share ahead of when I had originally planned. Please enjoy and please, please always let me know what you think! Also, I've been having problems trying to reply to reviews for some reason, but I swear I will get to them and for right now I'll just say a general thank you. THANK YOU!_

P.S. - , kiss my ass. I found a way around your flaw. Stupid site.

**_Disclaimer: _**_ Been done before._

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><p><strong>Chapter Nineteen: Not Glad I Forgot <strong>

Katie strolled into Finn's classroom, the smirk on her face _almost_ as big as the 7-11 purchase she was carrying. He was actually sitting hands folded together and drooping between his knees, with his cheek pressed to his desk. And he was snoring.

She realized how delicate of a position he was in and how easy it would be to fuck with him. She totally decided to be the good friend and _not_ do it. He would totally owe her.

She set the drink down and then dropped a hand to rub his back softly. "Finn?"

His head jerked up and he looked around quickly before he reached up a thumb to wipe the drool from the corner of his mouth. "H-hey, Kate. What's up?"

"I just thought you would like me wake you up so you could mop up the drool before Rachel got here. When is that supposed to be anyway?" She asked brightly, folding her arms as he continued to squint at her like maybe the natural light coming in through the classroom windows was hurting him.

Really, he was trying to figure out what time it was.

"Uhm…" he shook his head. He'd been really, really asleep. As his eyes wandered, searching for a spot on the plain faced clock without a glare, he saw the drink she'd set down and he smiled. It had been a tradition there for a little while, especially when their band played gigs super late on work nights before securing their current weekend spots—she would meet Josh at the Sev because it was the halfway point between the schools they worked at, and she would return with a Double Big Gulp-sized Coke for Finn. If she was trying to butter him up to do some of her grading or something, she would put cherry syrup in it. He fought the further growth of his smile as he noticed the pinkish tint to the brown soda. "Thanks for the Coke." He unwrapped the straw and stuck it through the lid as she shrugged.

"Eh," she said, finally perching herself on the long, low row of shelving underneath the window that spanned the classroom. "I heard something going on in your room before the ass crack of dawn. I figured you were up late and could use the pick-me-up."

He raised the cup to his lips and took a drink. "Is this your way of asking how my night was?"

"…maybe," she admitted slowly. "How likely are you to tell me?"

He sighed, his eyes finally actually reading the clock. "Well, not lots because Rachel should be here in about five minutes."

"Lunch isn't over for fifteen," Katie protested. "Were you scheduling time to eye-fuck her first?"

He gasped. "Katie!"

"Shut up! It's a nice day. They're all outside and I was talking softly."

"Well, what I was going to say is that I told her when lunch ends, but she's usually about ten minutes early for stuff."

Katie scowled. "Like…she was like that in high school? Or that's actually continued into adulthood?"

"No, the adult version of her runs about fifteen minutes early," Rachel said with amusement from the doorway. "And I could hear what you said in the hallway, so I'm not sure you were whispering."

Finn laughed and got up immediately. Katie laughed at what Rachel said (she honestly had heard worse language out of her own students and she didn't really care about the teasing.) But as Katie watched Finn move over, and saw Rachel blush when he clasped her elbow then bent down to kiss her cheek, she realized this was the opportunity she needed. She was a big sister and her little brother lived far, far away. She needed to beat up on Finn as the outlet.

"You look significantly more rested than he does. What's your secret?" Katie asked. She hopped off the ledge. "Y'know, besides the insane blushing you're doing just because he kissed your cheek."

Finn sent her a death glare, but Rachel just smiled coolly. Years of being friends with someone as gregarious as Cooper, and months of rooming with someone like Charlie had prepared her for exactly this.

"No. I just got to sleep longer than he did," she said simply.

"How does _that_ work?" Katie asked, her curiosity overcoming her teasing for a minute. Rachel immediately understood the innuendo and dropped her head to cover her flushed smile. Finn had retrieved his drink from his desk and had just finished a large sip. He was finished enough it didn't spray, but he still choked.

"Jesus, _Katie_!" He scolded.

"Excuse me? Are you the same person who just complained about _my _language?"

"Maybe, but now I'm complaining about your question!" He cleared his throat. "Didn't you tell me once that your house was like Vegas?"

"Yeah, and then that night _ended_," she retorted.

"So what is it that you want to know? That I'm sure is _none of your Goddamn business_?"

She looked between him and Rachel. His face was a little tense and hers was invisible because all Katie could see was the top of her head. "You two together?"

"Yeah," Finn said.

"No," Rachel said at the same time.

Finn and Rachel's eyes met and Rachel hissed out her justification. "I _did_ leave you in the middle of the night to meet up with another guy. That walk of shame doesn't exactly label me as attached, does it?"

"Since you forgot he was pulling into town…" he started, but Katie's snort interrupted their slightly confused debate.

Katie suppressed her laughter and managed to avoid saying a single word about any of _that_, but her eyes got wide and she let out a low whistle. "Okay. Well on that note," she clapped her hands together and started backing out of the room. "Discuss. I will see you guys in the rec center in a little bit. Finn, are your kids going straight there after recess is finished?"

His breathing was intense and minimal, and he dropped his head to press his fingers to his forehead, feeling the pressure from Rachel's stare in the wake of their awkward misunderstanding. "Yeah, I…supposed to be."

She nodded. "Excellent. _Bye_." And she hurried as fast as she could out of the room.

Rachel turned her face forward to watch Katie go, then looked at Finn. "Maybe that's something we should've talked about."

"Have we _ever_ actually talked about it?"

Rachel's eyes shifted off to the side as her memory flipped through their collective history like it was a photo album. Her hand flew to her mouth. "Oh, my God. We've _never_ talked about that. We've always just…" she let out an awkward little squeak of a laugh and pressed her hand to her mouth a little closer.

"Well, let's talk about it," he said, moving towards her. He towered over her and she dragged her eyes up to look at his face, the deep, coffee colored orbs widening impossibly as he said the words in a low voice. "Let's be together. Please?"

Her smile was slow, but not complete. "There are a hundred things I should ask you 'what about'," she mumbled. "But I really just want to say yes and deal with all of those hundreds of things later."

"Then just say yes," he breathed with a small smile, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

She laughed at the same time the bell pealed out overhead, the two sounds mixing together and making his smile explode open, but that was more because of her nod than anything else. He couldn't have resisted the urge to kiss her even if he _wanted_ to resist, but he _knew _his classroom was close to the doors that led to the play yard and his kids were almost always the first ones in the room.

So he didn't, like, attack her with his tongue. But he _did_ plant a pretty good one on her.

"Oh, gross! _Mr. Hudson!_"

The boy's thoroughly disgusted protest pulled them apart and Finn looked up from Rachel's upturned face with more than just a little difficulty.

"Hey! You're supposed to meet in the rec center, Jeremy."

"I'm not glad I forgot," Jeremy grumbled. She heard a basketball bounce across the floor with a short dribble and stop. Finn shook his head and gave her another soft kiss.

"We'll figure it out," he assured her. She looked up at him with a nod and a smile but the only question in her head as he tucked an arm around her and led her to the rec center was _how_?

Finn's dancing was marginally better and it wasn't like what he was teaching the kids was precise or detailed. Still, Rachel watched him kind of introduce everything and, aside from the two kids in back who she thought might've just completed a drug deal (she shook it off, realizing she was in suburban Ohio and not still New York), it seemed like everyone was paying attention to him and he looked pretty comfortable with what he was explaining. It was a whole different side to Finn.

She kind of wondered if he felt that way watching her on stage. She hoped he did.

"So, guys, this is Mrs. Hu—uh…um…" Finn licked his lips and looked down, going purple almost instantly as Katie looked over at Rachel and Rachel fought just to keep her lips pressed together as he cleared his throat. "Mi-mis..Miss Berry," he finally stammered out. He squeezed his eyes shut tight as he looked up and then cracked one barely open to look at her reaction. "She dances, like, for a living. So she was super nice and agreed to come help us."

He gestured to Rachel and all she could really do was wave at the group of about 60 or so kids that turned to stare at her. Mostly she didn't want to say anything and embarrass him further, if that was even possible. She finally made her way from the side to the front of the room. It wasn't really the front, still down in front of the stage, but it was a good two feet ahead of where the kids had sat. From what she gathered by size, they were arranged with the fourth graders in front, fifth graders scattered throughout, and sixth graders in the back with some standing and some on ancient metal folding chairs that looked older than some of the teachers.

Of course, that meant the majority of the kids from the center of the room back either stood taller than her or outweighed her or _both_ and she guessed by the giggling whispers and glances her way, maybe some of the kids thought that was entertaining enough.

Finn started with something basic, just a waltz in four, and apparently this had tied into whatever general music lesson they were having. He clasped her hand in his and then slipped his arm around her waist, hugging her maybe even a little unnecessarily close as he pulled her along with what he was saying. She didn't bother pointing out that the lazy teacher manning the large stereo on the stage had probably put in the wrong song because the one they ended up dancing to was in ¾ time and she recognized the difference immediately. As a drummer, he should've probably noticed that, too, but he didn't say anything if he did and she just followed his lead.

The other teachers were pairing their students up and guiding them to different spots in the large, linoleum covered room so they could move without bumping into each other (and Rachel now had a better idea what Finn had meant when he said 'bumper cars' would result in after-school detention). He looked down and smiled, just pressing his hand into the small of her back a little more so he was holding her closer.

"Thanks for coming," he said simply. "It's good to dance with you again."

She smiled brightly. "Thank you for asking me."

She felt his breathing get a little thicker and he pressed on. "Is that all I have to do?"

"Yeah," she whispered.

"Well in _that_ case…" he began, but he was cut off with the open mouth and everything by Katie tapping on Rachel's shoulder.

"You have a secret admirer," she said simply. Katie pointed to the boy who was watching their interaction while he was trying _not_ to watch. It was kind of adorable. "Who also has two left feet."

Even though he was releasing her, Rachel looked at Finn with a smile. "It's a running theme for me, apparently."

"And you're kind of a jerk," Finn said. She went on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek before she skipped off, ignoring his comment.

Finn kind of looked around and noticed there were still a couple of teachers guiding their students who were looking at him like they still needed someone up front showing the kids what they were doing, so he grabbed Katie's hand and resumed dancing even though he looked confused.

"I think she put in the wrong disc," he commented finally.

"Yeah…maybe two songs ago. Way to be paying attention," Katie said. He tightened his grip on her a little bit.

"So not cool of you to make fun of me for this."

She kind of looked down and then back up at him with shock written all over her face. "_Finn!_"

"_What_?" He whisper-hissed. He was pretty sure he knew what she was talking about, but was she really going to bring it up? He squeezed his eyes closed. No, no she wasn't; someone else already had.

"You-you aren't going to help any of the kids with…with…" she dropped her gaze down again to where they were pressed together lightly. "That's, like, a _felony_."

He stepped back, out of sync with the dance they were performing, and shook his head. "Well…"

Katie gave a sigh and rolled her eyes. "I have never seen you this…this…this—this _out of control_ before. You're totally flustered." She glanced over her shoulder and saw Rachel trying to help the kid who was in sixth grade and _taller_ than her. At the same time, Rachel had her arms locked like the kid was trying to cuddle up or something. "I think it's her."

Finn and Katie resumed their normal dancing posture, friendly but not _too_ friendly.

"It's her," he admitted quietly.

"You're kind of cute about her," Katie said, the teasing hitting home and immediately turning his cheeks into flames as he ducked his head. "Plus Josh told me about the whole tough-guy routine at practice the last night."

Finn had just opened his mouth to answer when the song ended and he realized it was time to change the dance they were doing. He motioned to the teacher working the stereo to pause for a second and saw the carefully orchestrated pairs of students falling apart a bit. Rachel practically leapt to the front of the room and away from the kid to get back up to the "safe" territory of standing by Finn.

Katie just watched quietly as his grip on her loosened and he stepped closer to Rachel. She wasn't sure he even realized that his hand fell to Rachel's shoulder while he was introducing the Rumba steps to the kids who were sort of paying attention. She also wasn't sure Rachel noticed the way she twisted toward Finn slightly as he talked, her head tipped up to watch him speak with _something_ written all over her face.

It _was_ her—Finn had that right. Katie just hoped Finn realized it was _him_, too.


	20. The Foursome From Hell

_**A/N: **__Okay, so because I've had several people ask, I'll just clarify here even though it has little to nothing to do with this update. The song Finn is writing for Rachel is __**Far Away**__ by __**Nickelback**__. Like the song Rachel wrote for Finn, the song itself exists in the real world, but in this alternate universe, I'm pretending it doesn't exist until they write it. And thus far, the lyrics of Finn's I've posted have differed slightly from the actual song because songwriting is a process. For me personally it's a process that results in nothing useful, but yeah. Anyway, as I use and abuse these songs for my own purposes, there is no infringement or harm intended and I promise I will put them back where I found them when I'm done. _

_I would've just replied this to reviews, but I still can't reply to thank so… right. And thank you and I will do it when FF lets me. But I'm thankful for the support and the people that are really into this story with me. And to those who help me with tweaks and plot points and songs and characterization. Y'all are the best. _

_**Disclaimer: **__See above, below, to the side, whatever. I don't own it. Any of it._

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><p><strong>Chapter Twenty: The Foursome from Hell <strong>

"This is _weird_," Katie hissed at Finn. "I shouldn't have…I knew it was going to be weird with you two and me as the third wheel but this is somehow _worse_." She had wanted Josh to come, but he and Brandon were busy looking at Finn's lyrics and trying to find some sort of a tune to go with them. They were still about a month away from starting to record for the contest, but they were starting to feel the pressure of making the small setlist, especially now that Finn had potentially dropped a new song into the mix.

"You could've gone to the bathroom with her. Isn't that something girls do?" Finn hissed back. Unfortunately, the most immediately available table at the small pub was a booth. Finn and Katie had arrived first, and Katie sat on the inside of theirs, insisting that it wasn't okay for her to end up sitting by a man who wasn't her husband. His eyes narrowed as he fought the urge to ask what that made _him_, exactly, but now with the fire in her eyes and her voice, he was glad he hadn't given her the opportunity to answer that.

"I wouldn't know," she said. "I don't hang out with girls. I hang out with Josh. And the band people."

Finn shrugged. It was true. He'd never even seen her make friends with the ladies at school, and she had basically refused any effort with Quinn outside of their frequent double dates. Even during the dates, she'd been only minimally friendly. Nothing hostile, but certainly not warm and fuzzy either.

"The least you could do, for my sanity and everyone else's, is quit looking at Cooper like you're going to kick his ass. We both know you aren't going to." Katie shook her head and raised the beer bottle to her lips even as she kept going. "Cooper thinks you _can't_ and Rachel isn't so sure on either count."

"What do you mean?" He looked at her, attempting to concentrate but at the same time –where in the hell did she see this stuff? Had he dozed off during their conversation or something?

"Finn, you know her way better than I do, and even I can tell she's uncomfortable with the way you're acting. That's her friend and you're being an asshole."

"Well…he's not _just_ her friend."

Katie nodded. "How long has it been since she fucked him, though?" She watched as Finn's eyes widened and then she wondered if she would ever learn to just_ not_ say whatever she wanted to Finn. It was the kind of friendship they had, though, and not unlike the relationship she'd had with her spastic little brother before he moved to Belgium for his job.

Finn took a drink of his beer before he answered. He _knew_ it wasn't any of Katie's business, but Rachel didn't exactly keep things secret. "Right before she came home. Like maybe a couple weeks ago."

"_Oh_," Katie said, extending the word into a laugh. "So… let's see if I understand. You're _jealous_ even though you had a girlfriend when that happened." She tilted her head to the side. "A long-time girlfriend who you probably fucked senseless when you found out Rachel had someone else to mess around with."

Finn's jaw dropped. "Maybe we need boundaries. I can't believe you just said that." He took a long pull from his own beer. "And just for the record, I'm _not_ jealous."

Katie chuckled into her beer and took a short drink as Cooper appeared first and slid back into the bench seat he was sharing with Rachel. "Yes you are," she dug in quickly. He shot her a dirty look and shook his head as he immediately searched the restaurant floor for his…girlfriend?

They had technically decided they were together, he supposed, but there had been a distance on her part for the rest of the day. Sure, it was impossible to maintain physical distance while they were dancing. She _had_ seemed surprised as they showed the kids swing dancing (which was always the favorite) that he managed to kind of throw her around with ease. He found himself silently thanking Courtney, the girl who had been his partner during a required swing dancing class in college and had patiently taught him how _not_ to be totally retarded with stuff like that.

They hadn't talked much, though. He wanted her to hang around for the afternoon, but it _was _kind of weird having her there while he was teaching (trying to teach) and Cooper had sent her a frantic text message that she couldn't forget the Tony nominations were being broadcast tonight. He wasn't sure why that meant she'd had to leave the school, but she had taken the excuse and then had pushed back their time to meet for dinner by a half an hour. In the end, they hadn't heard anything yet (neither of them had any sort of internet or satellite radio access that would allow them to hear the broadcast live) and had both shown up but were totally preoccupied. Her hand was glued to her cell phone, Cooper's posture mirrored hers, and Finn was not above getting irritated with the distraction.

None of _that_ changed the fact that she was so nervous about something—either things with him or the awards junk—she had downed two huge glasses of ice water in the twenty minutes they'd been there, in addition to sipping at her wine and this was her second bathroom break in the last fifteen minutes.

So, add that irritation in with missing her even though she was technically at the same table, combined with the uncertainty of exactly _what_ they had agreed to and then the embarrassment of practically calling her his _wife_ in front of a room full of elementary students (and Jesus, Katie hadn't mentioned _that_ yet so he was sure when she did it would be epic and embarrassing) and…he was basically a total mess.

Add in the fact that her dress was short and the skirt flared out so it moved when she walked and he could see too much leg and… yeah. There was just no way. Maybe Katie was right. This had disaster written _all_ over it. Finn looked over at her, trying to desperately convey that he was super glad she had come to save him from himself. Instead of his thanks, though, it was an offer to get the next round that came out of his mouth.

By the time he got back, Rachel was back too. Her phone wasn't on the table anymore and he looked at her with a quizzing frown as he set down her water refill (her third, for those keeping track).

"Where's your phone?"

"I had to put it away." She started. He didn't miss the way she looked at her seatmate sideways before she shook her hair out of her face and watched him drop back into the booth while she finished. "It was brought to my attention that I was being annoying about all this. Even if it's _hugely_ important and I feel like I'm waiting for word on my entire _future _because these nominations mean _everything_."

Finn frowned. Cooper had put her in her place? Wasn't that… wasn't it kind of _his_ job? Not, like, in a bad way. She'd told him way back when that she counted on him to tell her when she was acting crazy, though. Had he been replaced ? It just made him more confused and that played out on his face.

"But…I mean…your next job is a guaranteed thing, isn't it? You're pretty much just going no matter what they announce," he said. He could feel Katie's glance off to the side of him. He _knew _this was walking a thin line. And he knew himself well enough to know if he crossed that thin line, he would snap. It was just a question of _how_. Would he go off on her, unload his frustration that their second chance had come after so much waiting but it had a time limit? Or would his frustration be over feeling like he'd already maybe been replaced after she said he could never replace _her_?

"Yeah," she said. She looked over his face with an honest smile, and then she spoke and he didn't miss her double meaning. Not at all. In fact, his stomach clenched a little with understanding it all too well. "I guess it just feels like _none_ of it is real. Like it's all just…" she shook her head and picked up the glass of wine.

"Complicated," he finished. Although he had started his second beer and had a glass of water while waiting for her, his throat felt dry as the word came out.

"Yeah," she said. She nodded and took another longer drink of her wine. She sighed and the tension deflated from her shoulders as she changed the subject. "So is that same kid from earlier going to be there tomorrow? He was kind of creepy. Like a younger Jacob Ben Israel."

Finn had already started to answer, his mouth open and intending to say they were teaching the other half of the fourth and sixth graders (the whole fifth grade would have to be there again—one of the hazards of cutbacks that meant the P.E. teacher also had a regular grade class), but then she dropped the name that still gave him chills a little bit. He saw her shudder visibly and laughed out loud as Cooper and Katie gave them both almost identical, confused looks.

"Want me to deal with him the same way we dealt with the original?" Finn asked. Her comment had thawed the ice a little, let the discomfort melt away like it always did, and he laughed a little bit at the horrified look on her face.

"_Absolutely not_!" She said, trying to sound firm about it even if she laughed. "Puck emailed me, you know."

"Hey—it was effective," Finn defended, his speech stilting. He punctuated it with a long drink of his beer. The waiter bringing their food served as a momentary distraction, but Finn should've known Katie would not be dissuaded for long.

"So what in the hell happened? This sounds like a story I need to hear," she said pointedly before she took a bite of a French fry.

Finn and Rachel exchanged a loaded glance, and before he could even open his mouth to answer, he noticed that she had really only ordered a side of sweet potato French fries. It hadn't occurred to him until they were sitting there looking at the menu, but this bar was the kind of place that even put meat on their salads. There was really very little a vegan could order. He didn't know how strict she still was about her diet, but it seemed like maybe she was still obeying it. He shook his head; no way. She was too tiny and too strong for that—she needed to _eat_. He edged the small bowl that had come with his dinner toward her.

"What are you doing?" She asked.

"I'm not gonna eat that anyway. There's, like, lettuce and I can see through the dressing so…"

She gave a small smile, just as wrapped up in their history as he was. It was nice to feel like they were still those same people in some ways. The first summer they were dating, they'd had a long conversation about what Rachel would and wouldn't eat; one of her restrictions for salad dressing was that it not be a creamy dressing so she knew there was no dairy involved. Finn had countered by saying see-through dressing made him want to see-through puke and the inside joke had been born. She called it the "Jack Sprat" arrangement. He _still_ needed to ask her what that meant.

"Thank you," she said quietly.

"_Anyway_," Cooper said impatiently. He looked back and forth between them.

"Anyway, it was all a long time ago. Finn came to my rescue and there is _no way_ he can do the same thing to one of his students. Remember how wrong bullying is?"

Finn laughed a little. They had gotten in huge trouble and, really, it _was_ pretty ironic that the most often bullied group had to attend anger management counseling for six weeks. Even if it had _sucked_ _ass_ he couldn't ignore the irony, even now. He twisted his fork through the pasta, spearing a piece of steak to hold it on the end and raising it to his mouth. "If I said no, would you make me go to counseling again?"

"Maybe I could just tie you up and show you how scary it is to be incapacitated," she said softly. Cooper choked on whatever he'd just taken a bite of and Katie led out a hearty laugh.

He bit back a huge sigh. On one hand, they had never really had an openly flirtatious relationship. Call it all of his frustration gathering, blame it on the alcohol, or chalk it up to the fact that he'd learned a lot more about how to talk to women during college, but he felt the need to push it just a little. Or maybe it was Cooper's presence and he was finally learning how to handle that kind of discomfort without trying to hurt the guy who had really done _nothing_ to deserve it.

"Is that a threat or a promise?" He asked. He quickly reached for his beer before she could see how much getting the words out actually killed him. The good news for him was that at that exact moment, Cooper's phone went absolutely apeshit on the table top and provided a much needed distraction.

It said a lot that, as focused as Rachel was on the incoming announcement, she didn't look away from Finn's face. At least, not until Cooper put his phone down.

"So….lay it on me," She said, turning toward her friend and squeezing her eyes closed tight.

Finn wished she wouldn't phrase it like that.

Cooper rattled down a quick and rather quiet list; Finn and Katie looked at each other uncertainly. Rachel was holding Cooper's hand with one of hers and had her other hand pressed to her mouth before they finally wrapped each other up in a huge, squealing hug. Okay, to be fair, Rachel was the one squealing. Cooper just kept saying something about it being "fucking awesome."

"What are they talking about?" Katie asked, dragging her eyes away from the pair and then putting her hand on Finn's arm to get his attention.

"The Tony nominations were just announced," he said. He kind of knew it was stupid, but he wanted her to just hug him. He was jealous, and fuck _no_ he wasn't telling Katie that he knew that was the case, and he just wanted Rachel to quite literally choke it out of him, maybe in just a little bit different way from the way she was currently choking Cooper.

"And that's…good?"

Finn shrugged. "I dunno."

Katie looked over at him. He finally peeled his eyes from Cooper and Rachel and then looked at her. "I need a smoke break."

"You don't—"

"Shut up. I need a cigarette after witnessing all your eye sex and you're coming with me," she said. "Now scoot."

"O…kay…" he said. He took one more glance at Cooper and Rachel, who had pulled apart and were chatting in excited gasps (again, those were mostly Rachel), and just left the booth without interrupting.

Once they were outside, she turned on him and he stepped back in surprise.

"You seriously need to wipe the lovesick puppy dog off your face," Katie said. "Cooper's so far in the friend zone with her that you have _no reason_ to be jealous."

"I'm not—"

"—you are," she argued, holding up a hand to cut him off. "And you have no reason to be." Her tone was more gentle and she stepped a little closer to make up for the change in volume. "Answer me this: are you thinking about moving to London?"

He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He looked back at the door of the restaurant and then back to her face. She wasn't mad, she wasn't judging…she was just asking. So why did it seem a little harder to breathe?

"I…I might be," he finally admitted. He rubbed his hands over his face. "God, what is _wrong_ with me?"

"You have a lot going on," she said simply. She rested her hand on his arm and as he sighed, he looked at her. "You know, I talk all tough and like a boy. I think it's having three brothers that did that to me, I don't really know. But I'm kind of worried about you," she admitted.

"Is this the part that you tell me you're going to slash my tires for not renewing my contract?"

Katie gave a small chuckle. "No. This is the part where I tell you that I really like Rachel and, whatever you two end up being, I think you should go slow because that girl is the real deal. She really loves you and I think you really love her. But you have to decide exactly what you want and how you want to go about getting it." She looked over his shoulder and her voice dropped even more. "I know Josh has given you a metric ton of shit about finding somewhere else to live. It's just because his sister stayed with us for like a year when she dropped out of high school and that was a bad situation. It has nothing to do with you." She cleared her throat. "So I want you to just stay with us until school gets out. You guys will know more about that contest by then. And you can take it kind of slow with her. There's no rule that says you have to go with her or your relationship is over. You can maintain a long-distance relationship if you want the band thing to work out."

He put his hand on his shoulder. "Kate, you're awesome and you know…you know I think that. But giving me more options isn't really helping with anything."

She smiled. "I'm sorry, I thought getting the Josh-shaped monkey off your back about a place to live _would_ help."

"Just don't let me hear you distracting him, okay? I don't know if my stomach could take any more of that." He put his arm around her shoulder as they turned to walk back into the bar.

"Uh-huh. And don't let me hear you taking it slow with her."

Finn was surprised when Katie led them to the bar instead of the table. "What are you doing?"

Katie sighed and turned to look at Finn point-blank while the bartender was finishing up with some dishes anyway. "Giving you a head start, stud."

He watched her order two new bottles of champagne. She handed him one and then made her way back to the table carrying the other. Once they got there, she slid back into her seat but Finn caught something in the glance she gave him. He realized _exactly_ what she was doing and was even more glad she'd come.

He turned to look at Rachel curiously. She'd been crying, he could tell, but she didn't look sad. No, she looking anything but sad. She studied him for a minute before she stood and then grabbed her purse from the bench beside her.

"Let's get outta here," she said simply.

"You read my mind," he offered as he reached a hand toward her to help her up. He _did_ kind of hope it wasn't entirely true, though, because even through the confusion and many thoughts he was having—he knew where they were headed. There was a better way to communicate what they were feeling and if there was anything they needed to do, it was _communicate_. Even he knew that. They needed the time and the space and she just…she just didn't need to read his dirty mind about it. That's all.


	21. Coming Back Home

_**A/N: **And this is where I remind everyone that I uprated this story to M for a reason and that reason is sex. Enjoy! Inspired by **For the First Time **by **The Script**. Not necessarily a sexy song, exactly, but… whatever. My brain works in weird ways. But the one normal way it works is to be so thankful for all the replies, support, love. And keep it coming because I'm needy. Thank you!_

_**Disclaimer: **Lather, Rinse, Repeat._

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Twenty One: Coming Back Home<strong>

"So if I can win at least an Olivier in London, I would be able to probably shop the production around in New York and _then_ I could win a Tony," she said simply. "Because you can't win a Tony for a play performed anywhere other than New York."

"That sounds like you would be gone for a long time," he said quietly. They were lying on the grass in Josh and Katie's backyard, a thick blanket underneath them and a soft one on top once the temperature had dropped considerably.

"Not necessarily. While it's true that musicals in London tend to run a lot longer than shows in New York, I wouldn't have to stay with the production. They have kind of a rotating cast." She looked over at him long enough to tell he wasn't mad or even particularly upset. He was still relaxed and looking up at the sky.

"What does that even mean?"

"Well, take Phantom of the Opera for example. It opened like a decade before we were born."

"Really?"

"Yeah. It opened in 1986," she said simply. "And there's a play, _The Mousetrap_, that's been playing in the West End since 1952. There's no way the cast members are original in something that long running. I sign a contract through my agency and then I can leave when my contract is up if I want to."

"Have you signed anything yet? And your _agency_? You have a whole agency?"

"Mm," she said. Her tone was non-committal. "Yeah, it's a long story. It's called Actors' Equity. It's almost like a union."

"Oh," he said. "Yeah, I know about those."

"You're a school teacher. I thought you might," she said. Her head rolled toward him with a smile and their eyes met in a brown-on-brown glance. "But no, I don't have to stay too long. I haven't signed a contract yet, but based on emails from my representative and some of the details I've received, my guess is we will work on the production side until late summer and then we'll start auditions and then rehearsals and hopefully have the play open before Thanksgiving-time. I'm guessing they'll offer me six weeks of an original run. It might be longer. But I could be back home around the beginning of next year."

"Home?" He asked.

"It's kind of an interesting concept, isn't it?" She ruminated quietly. She turned her gaze back up to the partly cloudy sky. "I used to think of home as a physical location. It was a warm place with a queen sized bed, two dads, and my things all around me. Now…" she shook her head. "Well, I think I'm just barely beginning to understand that home is a frame of mind."

"You don't like it here?"

She looked over at him and couldn't keep the truth of it out of her voice. "Usually…no. I think that's why I haven't been back until now." She swallowed hard and dropped her voice, but her smile kind of gave her away. "But _right_ _now_…I can honestly say I've never been happier or felt more like I was at home."

He sighed. There was nothing he could say to that but there was something he could _do. _

He leaned over and kissed her, starting off soft and slow. Could you kiss like a metaphor for how you wanted the relationship to go? Maybe not because then it would probably end with some sort of an explosion. But after her quiet words that meant everything…soft and slow was what he could do. It was what he _wanted_ to do. Her body rolled toward him and he drew his legs up, curling just enough that they were face-to-face a little easier. His fingers grasped at her dress, open and closed, open and closed. His mouth echoed the movements, his tongue tracing along her soft lips. He could taste traces of champagne and he was pretty sure she could taste the same on him. It didn't matter if champagne wasn't his favorite thing, he thought tasting it on her could change that. Just like she either had or could change everything else.

She moved closer to him, struggling to slide her smooth leg against the friction from being slightly tangled in the blanket. Even though he was still kissing her, still rubbing her dress and feeling the warmth of her seep through the thin fabric, he recognized she needed help and reached down, his hand on her leg as a barrier against the blanket, allowing her to bring it up all the way over his hipbone. He had _almost_ forgotten how smooth and warm her skin was. _But not quite._ It was perfect, it was everything he remembered, and as he scooted closer to her under the blanket, eliminating the millimeters between them, he let out a groan he couldn't have controlled if he tried. She shifted again, tucking her leg around him more tightly, and he let his hand slide up under her dress.

She answered him, she always had an answer, and this time it was by sliding her hands from where they'd come up to his face to tickle through the hair at the nape of his neck. She used her thumbs to tilt his jaw up so she could move her kisses down onto his neck and as he felt her breath dance over the pulse point and then use her tongue to trail around to his collarbone, he slumped against her a little bit and swallowed hard.

His hand that was on her thigh curved around to feel her ass through the silky fabric of her underwear and then trailed up her back. _Her dress didn't have a real belt? _It was one of those illusions where it just looked like a belt but it stretched, giving way to let his hands wander up to the clasp of her bra. _Excellent_. With his quick twisting motion, she felt the binding it provided relax and she inhaled a deep breath as she pulled her lips away from his damp skin, the breath giving her just what she needed to laugh a little bit.

"Are you kidding me?" She demanded. Her voice was still breathless and even as she looked at him, there was something else in her eyes, her breathing and the way she clutched at him. Whatever it was surpassed the amusement.

He closed his eyes as he rubbed up against her, pressing into her body where her leg let him stay so close, and he dropped the hand that had just rather expertly undone her bra and the buttons on the back of her dress to leave her laughing at him.

"Shut up. I was in a frat. It was, like, one of those things I had to learn before I could graduate." His words were defensive, but his voice wasn't actually capable of anything louder than the husky growl he didn't even recognize as his own voice.

She gave a huge, larger than life laugh, one of those laughs that shook her whole body, and he hugged her close to him. Wait…_closer_? He was doing something wrong if were possible for her to get much closer. Plus he still had all his clothes on.

And just like that, she had an answer to a question he didn't ask. While he was catching up from being turned on by her laugh and the way it had crushed her chest to his, she was busy sliding her hands over his dress shirt and down to his belt buckle. By the time his brain caught up, she was unhooking the dress pants he'd been told to wear, one hand unhooking and the other providing much-needed friction against the zipper of the pants.

"Fuck, Rach," he ground out, dropping his head to her shoulder while he withdrew his hand completely from her dress, finally reaching up to peel the sweater away from her shoulder and leave it bare. He let his tongue take advantage of that and he felt her tug his shirttails away from the pants entirely.

"I still _hate_ that word," she said simply, then she kissed the underside of his chin. "But you're in luck because I really _love _following your orders."

He pulled back to look at her. Like…wait. _What_?

Things had changed. Change was good. That's all he was saying.

"We, um, we should go…" he tried as her tongue was dancing—_dancing_—and he could barely even dance in real life and she could be dancing with her other body parts one at a time and…okay, that was not helping him get his request out. He swallowed, his dry throat almost sticking closed entirely before he managed. "We should go inside."

"No," she said, moving toward him and clutching at his shirt. "We should just finish what we're doing."

Finn sighed and backed away from her just enough that he could see her face. He had to blink a couple of times in an attempt to get rid of the hazy cloud of Rachel that surrounded all his senses. He knew what it was like to lose himself with her—_in _her—and it wasn't that he didn't _want_ to, but…

"Hang on," he said slowly. She was still grasping his shirt in small fistfuls but she looked at him.

"Don't you…don't…"

He couldn't shake his head, couldn't do anything else. He let in a shaky, sighing breath. "If…Rachel, if we do this…" His heart was pounding. She could feel it under her fingertips and she frowned. This was _serious_, whatever it was. She blinked a couple of times and gave him her full attention. "…you can't leave me again."

Her shoulders sagged and she looked at him. "What do you mean?" She asked.

"I just…I just don't want this to be goodbye. Goodbye hurts when it's you and I might not know a lot but I _know_ I don't want to get hurt. And I know I don't want to hurt you and…" he looked at her and he swallowed. "And you're leaving in a while and it might kill me." She opened her mouth, but no sound came out and he continued. "Okay, not _actually _kill me, but…but there's just all this possibility. I feel like I'm a loser and I'm starting my whole life over again and I want to start it with you but you have other plans and I…I can't…I can't just have these perfect moments where I see you and then you're gone and…"

"I don't just want perfect _moments_, either," she admitted quietly. She brought her hands to his face and gave him a soft kiss. "I want a perfect _life_. And I want you."

He nodded and leaned into the kiss, starting off soft and slow again. It _was_ how he wanted to start off and she had just said how he wanted to end up. It was just the middle that was giving him some thought. He could get through that if it meant he could have her. He could do that. He was sure he could.

He pressed forward, rolling her gently onto her back as he kissed her languidly, in no huge hurry for it to end. He pulled back from where they were pressed together, lifting his neck up to look at her seriously and then brushing his fingertips over her bangs to brush them off her face. She released a small hum, a low contended noise that was close to a purr and his eyes slipped closed. She shifted a little bit beneath him and when she did, the skirt on her dress fell away from her body and he pressed against her eagerly, kind of glad to have it out of the way—even if he just wanted to lick every inch of leg he could see hanging out of it when it was sitting just right.

They kissed like that for a while, tongues tying bows together and wrestling for dominance in a vaguely familiar and increasingly demanding give and take. Her hands had moved through the buttons on his shirt, eventually peeling it away from his skin and leaving it tangled around his elbows and waist and he absently thought that his one real regret here could be the fact that he wasn't going to be able to get her entirely naked fast enough.

He pulled back just long enough to twist out of his shirt and he looked down at her. Her hair was spread beneath her, tangled in awkward folds and curls against the blanket. He blinked twice because he wanted to take in the whole image even if it was dark. He sat up on his knees and his loose-fitting pants fell down. He had kind of forgotten she'd already undone them and he laughed a little bit as he held out a hand and helped her sit up long enough he could slide the ice-blue sweater off her other shoulder, finally leaving her almost topless. All that he needed to do…

He slid his fingers over her shoulders, ducking his head to watch the surreal sight of himself touching her bare skin, unable to believe he was so lucky that she was here under his hands again. He watched his own hands, feeling slightly disconnected from his body and yet totally fucking _amazing_ all at once, as they brushed down to the neckline that framed the very tops of her breasts, before he tugged down lightly to leave her completely exposed. She looked up at him, where he was looking at her. His eyes were no more than sparking flint in the shade of the evening and he was biting his lip a little bit as he took in the sight of her as much as possible.

_This_ was the Finn she knew and remembered. He was sweet and slow and soft and perfect. And he looked at her and appreciated her and… so it might've felt more right if he'd fumbled with her bra a little more, but oh well. She was here. This was the first perfect moment of the perfect life she _wanted._

Her stomach clenched a little. Was this what _nervous_ felt like? If so, maybe she had never felt true nerves before. She reached her hand out to tuck her fingers into the waistband of his boxers and used that to crawl closer to him, the motion a little awkward as she crawled over her dress. As he caught her jaw in his hands and bent his lanky torso down to press another kiss to her mouth, she pulled him with her and lowered her free hand to untangle the dress from her knees and pull it out from under her, finally tossing it out of the way with a careless wave, not caring where it went or what happened as long as it was gone. He used the dip of her motion to ease her back down to the blanket and then pulled the other on top of them so they were covered. He was kissing her throat as she swallowed and closed her eyes.

He moved his mouth down to her chest, his breath dancing over her nipples, the combination of cool air and hot boy hardening them to almost painful pebbles. She dropped her hands down to the blanket as he kept moving down her body, leading with his tongue, clearly devoted to committing every inch of her body to his memory.

The other times, they hadn't been so free, so able to just _enjoy_. She understood what he meant before, but she hoped he understood _all_ the ways this time was different. His kiss landed on her thigh and she threw her hands down with her gasp, grabbing at the fabric desperately as he kissed everywhere but _just_ the right spot.

His head had disappeared beneath the top blanket and she could barely make out the ghost of the shape moving under there, had barely enough time for an errant thought about how he could possibly breathe before he slid her underwear off and used his tongue to set her whole body on fire and she didn't really care about anything else after that.

"_Fuck_…Finn…." She gasped out. She felt his movement still and she _knew_ she had surprised him, but it didn't matter as long as he didn't actually stop. She lifted her legs up so her knees hooked over his shoulders and he started up again by dragging his tongue over her in firm, long, flat strokes, the circle at the end of each stroke where he carefully flipped his tongue along the sensitive bundle of nerves _almost_ enough to make her come completely undone, but not quite. Her hips rolled up and down impatiently and he looped his arm around her ass, over her hipbone, and rested his hand underneath her belly button to hold her still. Even though his palm was flat on her skin, the pressure and the increasing intensity of his strokes pulled her over. As soon as he felt her thighs tense, he slid two fingers inside her and used them to drop her over another edge, one she hadn't even known _existed_.

She closed her eyes, blinded by him and unaware of anything except for his touch and the golden stars lacing her vision as she totally lost control.

Once she could finally drag her eyes open, she realized he was slowly moving up her body, his tongue tracing a road for the rest of him to follow. She sighed and finally brought her fingers to his neck to draw him the rest of the way up to her mouth for an immediate and hot kiss. He had just turned her bones to liquid…something…but all she wanted was more, especially once she tasted the faint trace of herself on his lips. She knew from the way he was thrusting against her, into the kiss, that he wanted more, too. She wasn't known for wanting to let people down, so she was determined to give him more; whatever he wanted. She would give him whatever he _needed_.

It was pretty clear as he settled on top of her that she was the only thing he needed or wanted at the moment.

As hesitant as she was to bring it up and _really_ kill whatever momentum their moment of perfect had going, she was more hesitant to_ not_.

"Do you—do you have a condom?" She asked as he settled on top of her.

He looked at her for a brief second, trying to remember. He had fallen out of the habit of carrying them, but he seemed to remember a pep talk from Kurt and a reminder that 'in the dating world, there is a policy you need to follow.'

"Yes!" He answered when he distinctly remembered flipping Kurt off, but then putting the condom in his wallet anyway. He fumbled around behind him until he found his pants. He thought it might've taken a year off his life to actually pull away from her long enough to get it, but…yeah. Hopefully it was one of the crappy years and he wouldn't need it anyway.

"Were you… were you _planning_ on having sex?" She asked. She was careful not to make her voice sound angry. His getting laid was, truthfully, kind of a given at this point. But still…

"N-n-no," he stammered. He sighed and looked at her as he knelt, condom in hand and tossing his wallet aside. "Kurt gave it to me at brunch. In front of our parents."

She couldn't help it. The laugh slipped out and her hand flew up to cover her mouth.

"Yeah, he called it 'helping'. That's how he paved the way for me to tell them I was single," he added conversationally as he unwrapped the condom slowly. It seemed kind of weird to back down into regular conversation but…he couldn't do anything but be himself with her and it was always just this big ball of casual and turned on and joking and serious and… it was awesome.

"That's…that's…" She was still laughing.

"Yeah, it's pretty terrible. If he wouldn't have been responsible for bringing you home, I would've slashed his tires or something," he muttered, shaking his head a little as he ducked down to put the condom on. He sighed. "I dunno if I could say I planned on having sex. But I can say I've been _hoping_," he said simply. "You?" She didn't answer, just kind of smiled, and he lowered himself back down on top of her. "I have this…well, I don't know if it's a problem or a good thing or what, but this, like _situation_."

She scowled, even as he was tugging the blanket back over them and her hands were tracing his back and making him shiver. He'd always been ticklish like that and he squirmed a little bit. "Umm…"

"Since the last time, I haven't been able to stop thinking about _you_. So I guess you could say I was always hoping. I know it's kind of pathetic, but…now it seems like it was okay. Because here we are."

"Here we are," she echoed. She let in a huge, deep sighing breath and pulled her head up to give him a soft kiss. She moved her legs a little bit, her hips now tilting in a way that lined everything up a little differently. She backed away from him, leaving just enough space to speak her next, tiny words. Tiny words which were actually _huge_.

"Finn, I love you. I don't want to leave."

He closed his eyes and swallowed hard, forcing the salty taste back down his throat. His head was flashing all over the place—remembering being with her like this before, remembering how bad it hurt when he _couldn't_ be like this with her but he wanted to, and then…oddly enough…Katie's voice sneaking in and reminding him that it wasn't all or nothing. They could be together and work through separation and it would be fine. It would _suck_ but it could be done. He tucked the new memory in with all the rest and leaned down to rub his nose against hers.

"But you have to. And we'll work it out. We-we can do this. All of it."

She closed the gap with one pucker of her pink, pouty little mouth and he slid into her at the same time, wrapping his arms around her to hold her as tight as he could. She was shaking a little bit against him as he buried his head against her neck and started moving his hips, slowly at first, with long and complete strokes. He thought maybe she had it backwards before.

_Home_ was not just a frame of mind. Maybe _home_ was a person. And it was a physical place. Because right now, he was so wrapped up in her she _was_ his home. She was his whole world.

That was never more true than when, in an effort to relieve the pressure he could feel building inside him, he added a short, punctuated stroke after every long stroke. He remembered her _really_ liking that the last time and, as she hiccupped in a gasp against his mouth, he thought maybe she still did. He pulled back from their tender chain of languid kisses to watch her face as her eyes fluttered close. Her mouth opened, allowing her to suck in a sharp, noisy inhale.

Three things happened all at once. Her tight body pulsed against him so hard his whole world exploded; he leaned down to whisper his love into her ear and it came out a little more choked than manly and he didn't care because he wasn't even a hundred percent sure what words he was even saying, but he knew he meant them all; and third, her eyes slammed closed tightly and he couldn't even hear her breathing anymore as her back arched off the blanket, pressing her chest tighter to his.

And he'd thought she felt like his whole world a minute ago. He was never quite so glad he'd gotten ahead of himself.

He came-to eventually, feeling his tongue dart out of his mouth to lick at her skin, just a little sweaty but it's not like he cared. She still tasted perfect. When she finally took a breath, it was followed by a quick succession of others.

"_God_," he muttered against her skin. She squeaked out a small laugh and he was reassured that she wasn't actually dead yet. She didn't still didn't say any words though. Her breathing was a little bit steadier by the second, even if he could still feel her heart pounding against his chest in perfect time with his own. "Okay, let's go inside and do that again," he finally managed. She got out a laugh, but then she kissed his cheek and he knew that was her way of agreeing without words.

Because in _his_ world, they didn't_ always_ have to talk. Sometimes they could just _be_, and what they were was, in this moment, perfect.


	22. Quick and Dirty

_**A/N: **The chapter title kind of says it all. Rated M for smut so consider yourself made aware of that fun fact. Thanks for the support, reviews, love, etc. Keep it coming! Also: I'm so close to 200 reviews that I want to offer a special thank you incentive. I'm going to pick a random reviewer off this update (not necessarily #200 exactly) and whoever you are, I will write a one-shot based on whatever insane prompt you can think of. The only two limitations I will say: I don't do non-canon slash or smut with more than two people. Mmmkay? Other than that, the sky is the limit. I'll notify you by email and in the next author's note._

_**Disclaimer:** Done before._

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><p><strong>Chapter Twenty-Two: Quick and Dirty<strong>

Rachel skidded to a stop more easily than Finn as he tripped over the blanket he was holding around his waist. He had opted for the blanket after she slipped into his shirt and then quickly bundled up the blanket that had been underneath them into a ball, also wrapping up his pants and his boxers. She hoped her dress was in there. Or maybe, if it wasn't, that it wasn't supposed to rain since her dress would still be outside.

They laughed in tandem as he tugged a little awkwardly on the fabric. The blanket was _huge_, which was saying a lot, because even wrapped through Finn's long legs it was still pooling around his feet on the ground. "This is not working," he admitted.

"So drop it," Rachel said easily. She couldn't stop with the lighthearted laughing long enough to even help him, plus the ball of stuff in her arms meant they were full and she hadn't bothered to actually button the shirt closed with more than one button. The stuff she held was doing double duty.

"Please do _not_," another female voice said slowly. Finn and Rachel looked up at the same time as Katie stood up from where she'd been bent down in front of the fridge. As she stood, the too-big t-shirt she wore fell to her mid-thigh and it was obvious, both by the size and the Guinness logo on the black shirt, that it was Josh's and maybe Katie had kind of done the same thing Rachel had done—grabbed what was closest at the expense of her likely-naked male partner.

"You grew up in a locker room," Finn protested.

"That doesn't mean I enjoyed it." She tipped her head sideways and grinned evilly. "Well, for the most part."

Finn rolled his eyes. "Whatever," he commented lightly. He had finally figured out a way to twist the blanket so he could hold it with one hand and he reached his free one back for Rachel. "Are you looking for a midnight snack or something?"

"…or something," she said easily. She knew her next words would get him out of the room quickly and, really, that was the goal. She could apologize to Rachel for any embarrassment later. "But you should ask Josh and Brandon what they came up with for that song you started. _Damn_."

Finn's jaw dropped and he looked from her to Rachel. "You defiled my song?"

"You're about to defile my guest room after you defiled my back yard. Let's call it even," Katie said with a shrug.

All Rachel could do was laugh and lean her face against Finn's mostly bare back for shelter. It was just a few seconds of embarrassment before his free hand, bent back, found her arm and latched on. The warm puff of breath from her squeaky little laugh had snapped the match again and he needed to get her to his bedroom, like, five minutes ago or the blanket was really just going to be a formality anyway.

They walked like that, continuing the blanket train sort of mentality, through the house to the bedroom he was staying in. As soon as they were in the room, he dropped the blanket and turned, pressing Rachel's back against the door even as it snapped closed with a soft slam. She dropped everything in her hands to bring her palms to his bare chest.

"If that's how you look in my clothes, they're all yours," he said before he dove in for a borderline-violent kiss that was so full of need she couldn't bear to pull away and ask if he really wanted her to wear all of his clothes or if he wanted her to be naked _with_ him.

She ran her hands down, turning her wrists once she got to his hips. She wasn't sure what she was going for until he stepped back at her insistence, and then dropped his hands from where they'd grabbed her face to put them on the back of her legs and haul her up off the ground, pressing her into the door. The shirt moved up with motion and revealed one key fact: she hadn't bothered with her underwear in their hurry to get inside either.

The first time had been about reconnecting, rediscovering – getting _together_. It was like signing a contract. You went over the details carefully and made sure all the 'i's were dotted, 't's were crossed. The second time was a little more like… an under the table, meet in an alley sort of deal. Quick and dirty. The second time was all about need and feeding the sleeping dragon that had been awakened before.

Once she was sufficiently pressed against the door, he reached down to adjust himself so he could slide inside her. They both wanted the same thing and they both knew it. As she pulled away from where she'd been nipping at his collarbone, her eyes flicked first down to what he was doing and he pressed into her, immediately hard and deep, the door shaking behind them with the first, rough thrust.

Her gaze calmly rose to his face, a slow blink, and then she was looking at him, mirroring all the pent-up desire and want and need that he felt for her. He wasn't sure he'd ever been so hard, so turned on, in his entire life and her look shot straight through him. He backed away enough to withdraw from her hard, inviting body almost entirely before he charged forward again. As he reached the deepest point he could inside her, he tugged at the end of her hair, her neck arching back enough to expose it to his waiting mouth. He could see her skin, glowing damp in the faint light from the bedside table—when had he left _that_ on?—and stretched his tongue out to draw it along the strong line from her collarbone up to her ear. He felt her throat move against his lips and heard the moist sound of her lips parting before she let out a grunt. He was buried so deep, pressed against her so tightly, he could feel her abdominal muscles contracting and releasing with the effort she was expending to grind against him as he dove into her again and again.

"What do you want? What do you want me to do?" He panted. Her head was rubbing against the door and she looked restless, like she wasn't quite where she needed to be. He wanted her to be wherever that was, because he felt pretty good. He wanted her to feel pretty good. He felt better than just good when she … whatever, his brain wasn't working.

"Anything…" she panted out. Her hands clutched desperately at his chest and she was not quiet about it. He smiled a little. "Harder," she said. She tapped her head against the door twice like she was trying to move forward so he could hoist her back up. Instead, he dropped his hands to her hips and tugged down so she took him in even further. He heard the breath leave her lungs in a rush and he managed to get a hand in between them, right to the spot they were joined, only able to manage because they were both sweaty enough their skin wasn't even sticky, it was just _wet_. He hooked a thumb right about the top center of her pubic bone, digging into the soft skin with the pad of his thumb, and let his other fingers reach down. He could feel her grip on his body tighten from the inside as he massaged her intently on the outside. He couldn't concentrate on anything else, just the warm slide of her tight body against him and the fractured, breathy noises she was making. She pretty much couldn't even move anymore, he had her pinned against the door so tightly, and he could tell by the way she fell against him, almost dead weight, that he was doing all the work.

He totally didn't care.

Her hands slid over his shoulders and into his hair, and finally she tugged on his ears as her body melted into him, grinding down so hard he couldn't move his fingers, but he could feel the force of her orgasm everywhere they were touching—which was pretty much everywhere. He had heard a lifetime of noises from her, but he was pretty sure the stuttering 'F' sound that was all she could manage of his name was the best one ever.

It was weird and he never saw it coming as something that would do it, but her fingers scratching at his scalp and tugging on the cartilage at the top of his ears was the perfect thing to send him crashing into her. He pressed his forehead to hers, swallowing against his dry throat and trying without success to get in a good deep breath right before his own orgasm slammed into them both. And he felt her come undone again, barely heard her whimper over the blood rushing in his own ears as he felt like his heart would throb right out of his chest. He had barely gotten a grip on his surroundings before he moved, still carrying her limp form against him, finally collapsing them both on the bed and somehow managing to not land right on top of her. He spilled over onto his back and they lay there panting, staring up at the ceiling, until he managed to actually fill his lungs at least one good time and then could feel his heartbeat starting to settle down a little bit.

"Ugh," he said simply. "I need a drink. You want one?"

They both rolled their heads at the same time, looking at each other as she swallowed again. Her breathing was still harsh. He could see her chest rising and falling, but the outline of the fingers on the hand she had pressed there just made it more obvious.

"Popcorn," she said. She squeezed her eyes closed.

"Wh-what?" He asked in surprise. It took him an extra minute for his body to respond to his actual commands and he eventually rolled up onto his side so he could look at her, unsurprised when his arm crumpled across his chest, leaving it to rest on the bed. He couldn't really feel it anyway. He still couldn't feel most of his body. Was that normal?

She didn't move for a long time and the rise and fall of her chest was leveling off to the point he thought she might've fallen asleep. But eventually, in slow and drawn out words, she answered him.

"I usually have a bowl of popcorn after…"

He blinked and struggled to figure out exactly how to respond to that. "Oh, it's…it's something you do th-that…that often?"

Yeah, totally sounded like a 14-year-old boy who needed to finish puberty there. His eyes slammed shut and he fought the urge to roll over and bury his face in the covers. It was hard to feel cool about the fact that the girl you loved was lying next to you, so exhausted she couldn't open her eyes, because you had just rocked her world and yet… you couldn't even squeak out a question and still sound like a dude. _Not fucking cool_.

At least the universe had ways to cancel out feeling like a wicked awesome stud. He just wasn't sure he liked the universe wasting all of those ways _on him_.

But her crisp sigh didn't seem to mean anything other than she needed a fresh burst of oxygen. "Are you sure you want to have that particular conversation?"

He couldn't really open his eyes either, so maybe she had rocked his world, too. At least his voice didn't crack now when he answered her, and he didn't stutter. And he could sort of feel his legs again, which meant he would be able to take a leak and get a drink soon—both of which were becoming needs rather than wants.

"Well…we probably need to at some point, right?" He cleared his throat. "Didn't we get some lecture in high school that ended with everyone having a random?"

Her laugh was tired but it was there. "I don't know if I have a _random_ you would have to worry about." She cleared her throat a little but her movement as a little more certain now as she looked at him and her eyes weren't drowsy. "I'm normally pretty thorough about using a condom…"

He opened his mouth to reply, but realized something pretty important, and of_ course_ about twenty minutes or so too late. "Yeah, I was…til…" He sighed. "Do we need to go get the morning after pill thing?"

She rolled up onto her side. "That feels like a high school question."

He raised his eyebrows. "When did you get asked that question before? I mean, we went to the same high school and I…."

"I didn't mean it felt like a question I was asked in high school," Rachel clarified. She gave a short little sigh. "We're fine. I mean…I…I use more than one form of birth control specifically for those instances. I guess I always figured if the chastity princess of all people could get pregnant, then I should be extra careful."

"Yeah," he said simply. "Same. Thinking you're gonna have a kid will do that to you." He cleared his throat but his voice was low. At some point, as adults, they should be able to actually have this conversation without wanting to kill themselves, right? Or maybe they should just get it over real quick. "So…those instances…have there been _a lot_?"

Even her breathing was quiet and it took a lot time for her to answer. She knew they needed to have some sort of a conversation because it was necessary to fill in a decade's worth of history. It's not like they covered the topic of sexual intimacy in their two-line "not dead yet" emails.

"I don't know if I would say a lot," she started. "But…there have been a few. Are you looking for a number?"

He cleared his throat. He wasn't sure he could even _give_ a number. That meant he couldn't really ask for one. It was really kind of disturbing, actually. "No."

"What about you? A lot?"

He bit his lip. There was no, like, winning way to answer that question _honestly._ "I lived in a frat house for three years."

She laughed out loud. "What does that mean? I went to Julliard. We didn't have frats. But just…imagine glee club on a larger scale."

"I only had sex with two people from Glee," he said slowly.

"I only had sex with you." Her words were quiet. "It took a long time for that to change."

"Yeah," he agreed softly. It had taken him a long time, too, and he had never been able to explain it to anyone because he refused to tell anyone about it anyway. Puck had been pretty damn frustrated with him during their entire senior year. And when he did—well, let's just say the punching bag caught the majority of his guilt about it. It felt like cheating.

He didn't know if that feeling had really ever gone away. Maybe that was a small part of what had been so good about this. It was the first time in a long-ass time he didn't feel dirty just because he'd had sex with someone. No matter what, he knew he was too tired to think about it much.

"Did you…" her voice was a sing-song, sleepy tone. They had just pulled so close to each other as they chatted there was no need to talk any louder. She sighed. "Did you ever feel like you were cheating?"

There were a lot of things he just couldn't say, talking to the guys in the band or talking to the guys in the locker room, or whatever. But between them…with her? He could say anything. He could totally be himself and he knew she wouldn't bust his balls for it. So he didn't really even think before the words came out of his mouth.

"Every time… 'til tonight."

Her smile was nothing more than a quick flash. "Glad it wasn't just me."

Finn had feeling back in his arm again, at least the one he wasn't laying on. He reached out and tickled down her arm with his fingertips, rubbing against the fabric of his own shirt. "So I still need a drink. Are you _serious_ about the popcorn?"

"Totally serious," she said.

"Then I'm gonna need my shirt back," he said. "Because I'm not going out there in a blanket again."

Her eyes opened slowly and her smile spread over her face. "You told me I could have all your clothes. I'm not returning your shirt. I might have a dress over there on the floor somewhere you can take in trade, though."

He smiled. "Pretty sure there's, like, a _line _there. We really shouldn't cross it." He leaned forward just a couple of inches and kissed her forehead. "Besides, there is _no_ way I could rock that look like you can work this one."

Her smile widened. "I'd like to see you try."

His laugh was almost instantaneous and he moved to get up. "Not gonna happen. Ever." He gave a little shudder just thinking about it. He had been super uncomfortable with his costume for Rocky Horror back in high school and, even though it was underwear, it had still been a guy's clothes. Wearing Rachel's tiny little dress from earlier was just not going to work. And that was assuming it would cover more than just his leg, because he was pretty sure it wouldn't.

He had pulled his boxers on and then lucked out that an open box on top of the pile next to the door had a clean(ish) t-shirt right on top. He tugged it over his head as her soft words hit him. "I have ways of encouraging you to do things, you know."

He tried to sigh, but it came out more like a grin. It had taken her all of about ten seconds (this time) to figure out he would do anything for her. He would write her a song…he would prove to her he was ready for her this time…he would make her a bowl of popcorn after they had sex...he would probably even put on a fucking dress.

All she had to do was ask.


	23. Origin of Transcontinental Booty Calls

_**A/N: ** Life is getting busy and I'm not writing as much as I'd like these days. Sorry for the delay in updating and the shortness of this update. But it still covers some ground, even if it started as a paragraph and ended up a chapter._

_**Thanks to many for all the help with these upcoming chapters.** This story has quickly gotten more complicated than I have a real handle on. **Wood-u-like-2-no, Paceismyhero, wants2beawriter, tjcrowfoot** – you have all been invaluable in helping me reclaim a grip on this. Major thanks!_

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><p><strong>Chapter Twenty-Three – Origin of the Transcontinental Booty Call <strong>

Rachel tipped her head back and shoveled some popcorn kernels into her mouth. It was kind of hard to hold the blanket wrapped around her and eat at the same time, but she managed. Finn's finger trailed along her bare spine as she chewed and she looked over her shoulder to see his face. They had long ago lost track of the time, but neither of them really cared overmuch either. Tonight was something epic, something that would go down in the…book or whatever…as their first night together. It was the first night of the rest of their lives. It was a big deal.

"So… I think it was your turn," Finn prompted.

She sighed. "My last date?" She asked him. She tried to shake the cobwebs off from her memory and gave a little laugh. "I…. I don't know. I've been working so much…"

"So you hookup but you don't have dates?" He asked incredulously. "Wow, things changed."

"This last play in New York is the last time I actually had my name on anything," she said quietly. "Because it was the first time since college that I actually had somewhere to call home. I haven't met _that_ many new people and since I worked when most people were going out, I…I didn't. I haven't."

"You get nights off though, right?" He asked, still quietly tickling at her spine with his fingers.

"Well, this last show we were only off on Monday nights. Our matinee on Sunday was a little earlier, but we weren't off."

"So what did you do on Mondays?"

She gave a small shrug. "Laundry. Me and Charlie and Cooper would go out sometimes."

Finn inhaled a sharp breath. "Can I ask you something and not…not have you take it like I'm being mean?"

"We can try it," she said. She leaned over so she was sprawled next to him on the bed. The sheet she'd been holding relaxed around her and his arm, now around her, drifted to the glowing skin on her shoulder. His movement was still lazy and relaxed and she sighed.

"What's the deal with Cooper? Why is he here?"

"He's my friend," she said simply. She shrugged the shoulder his fingers were resting on. "He…he is head over heels in love with Charlie, but she has a lot of issues. But it's been the three of us, thick as thieves while we've been doing the play. So when I needed to leave and she needed to find a roommate quick, he moved in without thinking about the consequences." She sighed. "So now they're struggling and Charlie asked him to leave, and he kind of caused some problems moving out of his other place so abruptly. He's out of a job, just like me. So he came to where I was because I'm the only friend he has at the moment."

"He could just go home," Finn suggested easily.

"No, he can't," she protested. She leaned her head forward and it bumped his chest. She kissed the spot, right by his heartbeat. "You're jealous."

"Why wouldn't I be? He's been there with you this whole time. He got into school there and went there and lived by you and kissed you and…_more_."

She trailed the soft kisses up his chest and to the underside of his chin before his eyes fell closed on his ragged sigh.

"What does going to school in New York have to do with anything?"

His Adam's apple bumped against her throat when he swallowed sharply.

"I guess it's still just a sore subject. That's all."

"I'm sorry," she said softly. There was really nothing she could say or do that would change their bittersweet and lonely history. Dwelling on it certainly wasn't going to help the situation at all. And it was almost impossible for her to feel anything _bad_ when she was lying in his bed, pressed against him, in the middle of this…this _night_, this time when they were resurrecting their relationship and finally claiming everything they had wanted for so long. He seemed to know what she was thinking, at least kind of, and he tightened his arm around her.

She tried hard and finally swallowed the complaint that he had nothing to worry about with Cooper because Rachel had never really _loved_ Cooper. On the other hand, Finn had lived with Quinn and had been a doting, caring boyfriend. _She had seen it with her own eyes._ And sometimes, even if she wasn't saying it, she still saw all those little things that had happened in front of her when the pair had come to visit her in New York. They still hurt.

She almost didn't want to hear his answer to the question that was lingering between them, but fair was fair. And he had asked the stupid question so it was only fair that he should answer it himself.

After a prolonged silence measured in their quiet, contented breaths and the gentle tickle of his fingers on her skin, she shifted to hook her leg between his where they were sprawled and it seemed to bring the conversation back to life a little bit.

"So… _my_ last date," he said. She rested her head against his chest and listened to the soft rumble of his voice as he started to answer. "Well…me and Q did date night every Saturday. It was some stupid thing she read in the Oprah magazine." His hand drifted up Rachel's neck and even though she didn't want to hear him talk about Quinn, his touch relaxed her. And logically, she knew he would mention a relationship that had been a big part of his life up until so recently. "It was kind of dumb and I did everything I could to avoid it at first. I mean, we _lived _together and so we saw each other all the time. But…but it was kinda nice. To put aside all the other crap and just spend time together. It started to be my favorite day of the week." He cleared his throat and the noise was so rough and abrupt that it almost startled her out of her reverie. "That's…that's one thing I think could help us when you're in London and I'm here."

She pulled away entirely and looked at him seriously. "You've been thinking about that?"

He nodded. "Yeah. Lots, actually."

She continued to stare at him, feeling the pressure in her chest build up in a good way. The more she had known about how much he was really struggling to figure out what he wanted, the more she had kind of figured she would go to London without any concrete answers. She had been trying really hard to promise herself she was okay with that, as long as _they_ were a possibility he was considering and another thing he wanted to work out. She had thought maybe she would go and then when she got back into the same country maybe they could try to figure something out. Instead, he was…was he actually suggesting they be together for the whole time she was gone? Was he really, really ready to tackle a new and serious relationship with her? After all, she was the one that had kind of pulled the rug out from under him with the last one and she still wasn't sure how deeply that had affected him—but it had to have, right? And if she could barely stomach conversation about his relationship with Quinn, she _knew _she wasn't prepared to discuss the ramifications of its termination. Instead of getting into all that, she decided to joke instead. It was just easier that way—for now at least.

"So you're telling me you want to have a transcontinental booty call once a week?" She asked, laughter in her tone.

"Yes. Sex dates," he said simply. "You have a web cam, right?"

"Yes, but it has duct tape over the lens," she said seriously. "I cannot risk a lurid tape coming out once my career is established."

"You just got nominated for a Tony," he said. "I think your career is established." He could barely choke out the words, still catching up to the fact that she thought of Skyping her boyfriend as a _booty_ _call_. Never mind the fact that she'd actually _said those words_. Things really had changed, she had really changed, and none of it was in a bad way. She was still _herself_, just with… with sex. Apparently, lots and lots of sex. Admittedly, he had wanted that part of her to change long before they had actually had sex. When they were actually in a relationship the first time, it had been all he really thought about and all he really thought was missing. Now that he knew what they'd been missing, well… forgive him for not wanting to ever miss it again.

Rachel sighed. "Not really. Winning is kind of part of that." Her voice dropped. "Plus, none of it is for a leading role. I need to win for a lead to really have a solid career. And even then, the few who have done _that_ still end up with roles on television and that's how they are most commonly recognized."

"Is that what you want to do?"

"I like being on stage," she said simply. "But…but television would keep me in one place. I could have a _life_."

"Is that what you want?" He asked. His throat was a little dry, having long since finished the water he went into the kitchen to fill a few hours ago. Okay, maybe because of that and because it was really serious stuff to talk about settling down, especially for _her_, so it kind of knocked the wind out of him. Even though he _knew_ he wanted the band thing and he _knew_ he really wanted_ her_, he hadn't been sure _she_ ever thought long-term. Not knowing what she was thinking had held him back in a big way.

"Yeah. This is just the first time I've thought it might be possible," she said quietly. "And…and you're not really in a place to decide all that, are you? I mean…" she shook her head. "Finn, I don't want you to rush into anything. You have a lot of options right now and I know how confusing that can be."

He tried really hard not to smile. He didn't have to hold back anymore? He was definitely going to let her have it then. "I'm not confused," he began. "At least…not about you."

He may not have been confused, not now that they were really talking about really real things, but the clearest thing was that he had been an absolute ass at the bar the first night she was in town when he called her out about not having a life outside her job. He _still_ felt kinda bad about that, actually. It wasn't the first or last time his mouth had gotten ahead of his head, but he could hear it all in her voice and this—this was why he wanted to wait and have this conversation in person. Well…that and the sex. Because what could be better than holding onto the person you loved and actually having them stay there and say they wanted to _stay_? If her leaving always messed him up, her staying fixed everything.

"No?" She asked.

"No," he said. He tightened his arm around her, then dropped his mouth to hers and _good_ _God_ maybe it was a good thing in some ways that she had left afterward because if he kept this up, he was going to wind up dead.

The soft, sweet kiss welded on to her and the dull hint of arousal that had been seated somewhere in her stomach ripped open again, spilling over her and her grip on him tightened and she dragged herself toward him.

"Mmm…" she said simply, finally backing away from him. "I think this sheet is tied into a knot. And I think you probably need at least a little sleep before work."

He lifted his head up from the pillow it was resting on and looked at the clock. It was nearly four in the morning. He groaned a little bit even as his grip on her tightened. "Okay, but I wasn't kidding. You can't leave."

She sighed. "I don't want to," she started, and then was interrupted by her own huge yawn. "I think Saturdays on Skype would be just fine for a while if that's what we _have_ to do."

"Good," he said softly. "'Cause I think I want it all and that means I need you to just stick with me."

"What do you mean?"

He let out a long breath before he pulled back just enough to look at her. It was dark in the room but he still knew her outline by heart and it hit him again just how glad he was that he could just look down and see her or he could just stop moving and feel her pressed against him. "I really want the band thing to work out. But I want to love you, too and I'm sick of doing that from far away."

She pressed her lips to his bare chest, pulling him in close to her again. He shivered a little bit under her warm breath and she fought the urge to smile. It was _real_. She kept catching wind of reality in all these little moments and she was glad she could refrain from pinching herself. He was real and he was warm and he was _right there_. He was starting to get more confident. She recognized it because she knew how he operated. Eventually, things would snap into place in his head, usually something would push him, and then he would go into decision making mode. He seemed to be getting to that point and she knew it was all probably going to go fast once he was there. She didn't care, as long as he was _sure. _She had learned, once upon a time, that she couldn't just be _ready_ enough for both of them. (Thank you for the lesson, break up number one.)

"Getting a band off the ground takes a lot of dedication," she murmured quietly. "But if anyone can do it, it's you guys. And I'll do whatever I can to help and support you."

"You just go finish what you're doing so you can meet me," he said. His words were long and drawn out and she could tell by the underlying rumble in his words that he was half asleep.

"We're already here in the middle," she said. She ducked her head down, smelling him and feeling so wrapped up in him it was like she had never left. Maybe home wasn't a place, or a person, or a stage.

Maybe home for her was just this middle ground—as long as he was there, too.

* * *

><p>The morning went quickly, even if they were both sleep-deprived. They had gotten something much more important out of the exchange anyway. Finn left early with a kiss pressed to her cheek and a note crumpled into her hand. When the alarm went off and pulled her awake, the note she found was the one she had left him all those years ago—the same purple paper, the gold fading from the star sticker in the corner. They had already worked out when he needed her at the school (earlier to accommodate for the condensed Friday schedule) and he had set the alarm to give her just enough time to get ready. Apparently, he had forgotten <em>nothing<em>—even how long it took her to shower. She only had the touch-up makeup from her purse with her and she ended up having to wear her slightly crumpled dress from the night before, so she knew she wouldn't be anything spectacular. The dress, in fact, spent the entire night out on the lawn; she thought she might match the pink color of it when she had run into Josh downstairs and asked him if she could borrow his dryer—the darker pink color of the stippled pattern, just to be clear.

The ballroom dancing part of the day was before lunch, and he took a rare lunch break away from the school. It was just sandwiches in the park about a block down, but the whole day was just calm and peaceful and—really, if she'd had any doubts whatsoever about the kind of life they would have together, the doubts were resolved in those two perfect hours.

The texts from Cooper, like a kid high on cotton candy and waiting for a promised trip to the zoo, cut in and she eventually had to go. She left Finn there to finish working, still smiling to herself; after all, she was leaving with the goal of tiring the kid out at the zoo so they could have date night later. It was a brief glimpse into the vague wishes she was already forming for the future. Even though Finn had begrudgingly agreed she should bring Cooper to the bar (in accordance with her half-hearted argument it would be 'rude' to leave him behind), and he had invited Josh and Katie to gatecrash following their weekly dinner in bed, she couldn't wipe the smile off her face the whole time because it still felt like a date. She wanted _this. _She wanted all of it, and he'd kind of fed her enough rope overnight to hang herself with her own excitement.

The only thing that really scared her anymore that she wanted it so bad she could taste it, and even if it meant she had to swallow the other dreams she had once upon a time, she barely cared. It had only been a couple of weeks since Finn had heard a song and given her a call—but instead of feeling like it was moving too fast, she just found she wanted it more than ever, and immediately she wished for more.

And when it came to her eyes-closed and heartfelt wishes, she always stumbled most once they came true.


	24. On Life Pressures and Date Crashers

_**A/N:**__ I've kind of slowed down on the updates for this one a bit. Sorry if that's an inconvenience for anyone. Please don't take it as my losing interest. It's quite the opposite. And your interest and kind words and encouragement and questions and even criticism keep me going, so y'know – keep it coming. The song featured herein is __**Change Your Mind**__ by __**Sister Hazel **__. I literally think it's my favorite song of all time._

_**Also, I forgot to mention in the last update: CarmenMauri "won" the oneshot. She asked me to write one based on a Puck/Quinn scene that was shown in the season 2 promo and never featured in an episode. I'm thinking on it now. And keep replying, because I may extend the offer again for more reviews. You guys are awesome and please know I appreciate it. **_

_**Disclaimer: **__See previous._

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Twenty-Four: On Life Pressures and Date Crashers<strong>

"Exactly how many clothes did you bring?" Cooper asked. He had been ready to go for at least twenty minutes. Rachel swore the last thing she had to do was choose a dress and she would be ready to go. _Yeah, fucking right_. She had just come out of the bathroom wearing the…he'd lost count. Like three-hundredth, maybe?

"Umm…. I don't exactly know but…it's probably not as many as you're thinking," she said slowly. She licked her lips as she stood in front of the mirrors that doubled as sliding closet doors and frowned.

"You know it doesn't matter what you wear, right?" Cooper asked. "I mean… he's a dude. When he sees you, he sees you naked."

Rachel thought back to the previous night, and how the later it had gotten, the more silly things got with her offering a permanent clothing exchange. And how he'd actually _noticed_ when she wore the same dress earlier as she had the previous night. "I bet you money he would be able to fully describe the dress I wore last night."

"Then it wasn't as good as you said." He settled back and closed his eyes. Might as well get a nap out of the waiting.

"I didn't say anything," she pointed out, still not looking at him and barely even committed to the words as she turned around to try surveying her ass in the mirror. "I think I'm just going to wear the jeans."

Cooper was totally speechless, but not exactly surprised; true to her word, Rachel emerged from the bathroom five minutes later, dressed in jeans and a loose and floaty light pink shirt that he swore to God he would be able to see her bra through once she was up doing karaoke (he wasn't going to tell her because then he would have to wait for her to change –_again_). She slipped her feet into some heels that made her at least four inches taller and were no way in hell comfortable. He held her jacket for her so she could slip her arms in and then they were out the door.

"You're wearing those?" He asked, gesturing to the footwear. "Because they look more like they're wearing you. And stumbling in those just means you're going to break an ankle."

She rolled her eyes and folded her arms against her chest when he turned to pull the door closed. "Yes, I'm wearing them."

As they started heading down the hall, he jumped into his previous line of nosy inquiry. "I still maintain that because you nailed another guy and then came home to me, I should get some basic information."

"This is not our home and I didn't _nail_ him; honestly, must you be just so…so crass? Besides, you have all the basic information." She stopped and pulled her small "out for the night" purse right up to her face. "I think I forgot my room key."

"I guess that means you have to come home with me instead of hooking up again."

She stopped and turned toward him. "Will you stop harassing me, please? He isn't some random man I picked up. I'm not Charlie. I'm actually embracing the chance at a relationship with someone I love."

Cooper sighed as they started walking. "_Ouch_. I'm sorry. I just need to drink a lot, okay?"

"I thought you came here to go to the zoo," she teased lightly. "Not to drown your sorrows."

They had reached the elevator and he reached out to poke the button labeled with a down arrow. "Well, the zoo was awesome like I knew it would be. And how is drowning sorrows a bad thing? Didn't we drown your sorrows just a couple of weeks ago?"

They stood side by side, looking at the lights above the elevator. She waited a while before she answered. "Yes, we did," she started. Her voice grew quiet. "I've waited a really long time for this opportunity. I'm just…right now I'm not sorrowful. I'm just hopeful it will work out."

"Yeah, well, if it doesn't work out I'm going to break his kneecaps," Cooper grumbled.

"Coop…"

"I'm serious, Ray. I can't say you're like my little sister because… well… that would make me a perv." He shook his head as the elevator dinged. They both stepped on and turned to face front before he continued. "But you just…you're just a force of nature and you should get to be happy at some point. That's all."

She tried to avoid smiling as she ducked her head. "For those same reasons and many others, I hope Charlie comes around, too." Her phone sounded from her front pocket and she pulled it out as he slid a sly glance her way.

"Me, too." He knew she was answering her phone, but couldn't help asking since she had broached the sensitive subject first. "Have you heard from her?"

She was just pressing her phone to her ear as he asked. Her sympathetic glance and mouthed _no_ were all the answer she could give. "Hello?" She knew it was Finn just by the freshly downloaded ringtone and she couldn't stop her voice from doing that thing it did when she talked to him. She also missed Cooper's exaggerated eye roll. He had seriously not known it was possible for Rachel Berry to _moon_ over a guy until that very moment. She hadn't said anything but he was reasonably sure they'd gotten it on in a big way the night before; it hadn't been as obvious all day as it was in that moment, seeing her face as she greeted the other guy on the phone.

"Hey," Finn said. He tried to sound casual but his voice cracked and he rolled his eyes. He cleared his throat a little to hopefully cover it up. "I was just calling to see if you're almost here."

"We're just walking down right now," she agreed. The elevator chirped again and the doors swung open. Finn was standing right in front of the elevator, across the small lobby and leaning against the wall. He bit back his grin as she strolled toward him slowly. She was wearing tall heels that he wanted to take up on their suggestion to fuck her, but he figured they should get around to a date eventually. Even if dancing with her this morning had been way harder because… well, so was he. He should've known the night before was a bad idea in a good way. He was just addicted to her.

"Well, hello," she said slowly. She arched an eyebrow at him.

"Sue me; I couldn't wait." He pushed off the exposed brick and swept her up against him as he dropped his face to her neck to kiss her warm skin. "You smell so good."

She pushed back just enough to see his face, his arms still so tight around her she couldn't move any more than that. She definitely didn't care, either. "You _look_ good," she said. "A sight for sore eyes."

"Your eyes hurt?" He asked with fake curiosity and a huge, boyish grin.

"No…" she started slowly before she tried to launch into a more literal explanation of what she'd meant and he shut her up by kissing her in soft, small nips.

Cooper watched from where he was standing just a few steps away and he was torn between speaking out against the lameness of it all and kind of expressing his jealousy. He _knew_ they had waited a long time for it, but there was something way easier about being free to outwardly express how you were feeling when you didn't want to contain it anymore.

He wanted Charlie to look at him like that, instead of yelling at him to _go_ when she had a face full of tears and a voice full of anger. Yeah, he was just kind of jealous and it hurt. So he stood there with a skeptical look on his face and an ever-increasing desire to drink himself senseless. He finally managed to clear his throat and it was just enough to pull them apart. He kind of grinned at the high-school giddiness of it all.

"Hey, Cooper," Finn said. He reached a hand out toward Cooper, which Cooper stepped forward to shake.

"Hey," Cooper said. He looked over at Rachel. "Thanks for letting me crash your date with the midget. Even if she's not so short at the moment." He looked at her doubtfully as she smirked.

"I'm still wearing these shoes," she said firmly. She rolled her eyes and caught Finn leaning over to look at her shoes. "Please tell me you don't agree with him."

He stood up straight and wrapped his arm around her shoulder as they started to walk. "I guess to say that I would have to know what he said in the first place." He looked over at Cooper.

"I told her she would break an ankle later when she's drunk and walking up the street," he said pointedly.

Finn laughed. He had seen her dance in taller shoes during Glee club and she had been fine. He was pretty sure she'd even been drunk one of those times. "I can always carry her if I need to."

She gave him a rather annoyed glance up. "You _never_ need to."

He squeezed her shoulder a little bit as he bit back a laugh. He didn't need a comeback, though, because Cooper did it for him.

Cooper actually snorted. "Pretty sure the night the play closed it was necessary for someone to carry you."

Finn looked down at her in interest; that would've been the night he talked to her. She'd sounded pretty trashed that night, and it was like a new set of worries. He hadn't really thought about how she would get home or whatever that night and it made him feel like crap as her friend. He should've…he should've what exactly? He sighed. He was pretty sure even her scalp was blushing, and that was all of her he could see. "Wh-what… what happened? Wasn't that the night I talked to you on the phone?"

Cooper decided to shoot for total honesty even if he thought she might try to stab him with the pointed heel on her shoe. Could it actually _do_ damage? Was she fast enough to hit a major organ?

"Yeah, and thanks for that by the way. She got way shittier after she talked to you for some reason and she almost puked down my back when I carried her upstairs. There is some old lady in Chelsea with puke on her doorstep who might've filed vandalism charges of some kind."

The bottom dropped out of Finn's stomach a little bit as his eyes widened. Rachel was still pressed into his side, holding onto him tightly, and he could feel the heat radiating off of her through both her clothes and his. She was _pissed_.

He on the other hand… he was sad. It didn't bother him that Cooper had said something, but it bothered him that talking to him had maybe been so painful for her. It had felt in some ways like someone had totally gutted him that night, but he'd already convinced himself that all their conversations were only like that for him. He wanted to think she was happy, she was living her dream, and maybe if she missed him, it was in the occasional and happy-remembering sort of way. He hadn't ever thought she would actually drink until she was so sick she couldn't get home on her own… over _him_. Especially then—he just wasn't worth that. Not while he was living with another girl. Another girl who hated her so badly and would barely let him talk to his friend.

If she hadn't talked about that, if _they_ hadn't talked about that…what else was there between them that he didn't even know about? How much had he really hurt her? And did he even want to know? Truthfully, how much did it matter anymore, when they were starting out on the other side of all that now anyway?

He couldn't answer the last question, he just knew that it mattered to him. Because he didn't want to be the one who had ever hurt her. And he thought maybe he deserved to hurt, too, if it really had been him. Wasn't there a name for that feeling? He thought it might need a label, but then again he didn't care about the label as much as the feeling that was making him kinda nauseous.

He fell out of his thought train right about the time Rachel finished Cooper's apparently-epic ass chewing for the overshare, and the same time Cooper pulled the door to the bar open. It seemed like Cooper might disappear into the small crowd now that he knew they had arrived just to get away from Rachel.

It was just after nine o'clock, Finn having gotten together with Brandon and Craig for a while to work on his song before they met up. Karaoke night was just winding up, but truthfully the guy pretending to belt Coldplay up on the stage was just _terrible_ and Finn kind of feared for what they would hear next. And he also wondered what Rachel, who was now so used to being around performers and people that did this shit for a living, was hearing and seeing. He was just a little bit humbled by his surroundings and he looked at her expectantly.

She turned her head toward him, a brilliant smile already pasted on her face, but it faltered a little when she saw the look on his face. It was a mixture of a bunch of stuff she couldn't read, but it looked not entirely happy. She put her hand on his stomach and her eyebrows dented in concern.

"Are you okay?" She asked slowly.

He blinked once, looking at her and then gave her a small smile. "Yeah. Let's find a table and get some drinks."

It took a minute, given that the crowd was starting to pack in, but they found a table that at least had four chairs and hoped they could just scrounge up an extra seat once Josh and Katie arrived later on. Chris Martin-not stepped down from the stage and there was blissful silence for a few minutes while the next person who had signed up came forward. As they sat down in their chairs, Cooper revealed that he had beaten them to the bar and he came back followed by a waiter with a tray _full_ of shots.

"…what's this?" Rachel asked, her eyes shooting up at him as he tucked his wallet into his back pocket and sat down. There had to be at least a dozen shots on the tray the waiter slid to the middle of the table, all dressed with salt on the rim and then with a bowl of lime slices in the middle.

"One, that last singer sucked serious ass. We need to remedy that so I need some liquid cooperation. Two, you're a lot more likely to laugh than yell when you're drunk and I already pissed you off." Cooper's gaze shifted to Finn. "And he looks like he's torn between puking and punching me, so I'm guessing life pressure and date crasher means he needs to liquor up quick as well. Let's just say I expedited the process. You get the first toast, Ray."

She raised her eyebrows to look at him questioningly. That was quite likely the most intense paragraph she'd seen him spew and he was an _actor_. She took a shot off the tray and reached over the glasses to pluck a lime from the bowl without question. Finn was watching her with kind of curious amusement but he wasn't moving and he still looked a little sad around the edges. She reached out to offer the lime and the shot glass to him; he took them very hesitantly.

She bit her lip a little bit, finally willing her eyes away from his and then reached out to get another shot from the tray. She could already feel Cooper watching her expectantly.

"To, um…" her mind wandered to one of her favorite songs, a song that was almost as old as she was but was a favorite nonetheless. She hoped it would be in their karaoke book. "To another way to just feel better."

Both of them looked at her like she was cracked, but she didn't study it any further before she swiped her tongue over the rim of the glass, tipped her head back expertly and gulped down the shot, then righted her head and stuck the lime wedge between her teeth. She didn't wait to see the looks the two men exchanged before she slammed the glass down on the table and walked away. Finn turned with a confused scowl to watch her go and then looked back to Cooper. The way Cooper was watching Rachel, with a mix of enjoyment and fondness, was enough to make Finn quickly drink the shot Rachel had given him before he leaned forward in his chair with his elbows on the table.

For his part, Cooper raised an eyebrow and polished off his own shot before throwing out a comment Finn wished could be taken back. "I really wish she would teach me how to do that. She kicks my ass at those _every time_."

"So y-you guys drink together a lot?" Finn asked. He reached for another shot, knowing he was going to need it if he headed into this territory. Well, fuck, he was already in the middle of it; might as well start wandering around while the tequila caught up to him.

Cooper shrugged easily. "Not so much _together_. More like a threesome."

Finn choked on the drink he'd just been finishing. "Y'know, I have, like, an image of Rachel in my head. None of that really fits," he admitted. He held a brand-new lime slice in his hand and, while he knew shoving it in his mouth would take the bite out of the shot he had just done and could feel recoiling in his jaw, he paused to decide if that was the best idea given whatever was still lodged in the back of his throat.

Cooper shook his head. "Nah, she's still that goody-two-shoes pain in the ass she's always been. Her roommate usually comes—came—out with us. Pretty sure those days are over."

Finn nodded his agreement. "Yeah… Rachel told me about you and Charlie." Finn remembered the bubbly girl from his visit to New York, but now he wondered why he hadn't met Cooper if the trio were such good friends.

The blonder man sighed and reached out for another shot glass. "Well, if you and Rachel can work it out, I guess there's still hope."

Finn watched Cooper down his shot and Finn plucked another one from the tray that was now already half-empty. "How do you get over the no-job thing?" Finn asked abruptly.

Cooper sighed. "Well, jobs kinda come and go for us. For all of us," he shrugged. "Me, Rachel, Charlie… we're all in a really fucking unstable profession. Even if you're good there is no guarantee you'll be good _enough_. S'not like there's a lot of self-esteem tied up with it 'cause we're always faking."

"I quit my job. Other than my band trying to make a go of it, I have nothing stable either." He tossed back his shot and went with the lime that time. He shivered a little bit. "Nothing stable, nothing to offer…I'm just another loser and that's the last thing she needs."

Cooper just shrugged. "I don't think that matters so much. At least not to her. She knows you'll figure it out because she just believes in people. To an almost nauseating degree."

"Tequila is gross," Finn muttered. "Maybe that's the nauseating part."

Cooper laughed. "Yeah, but it does the job right quick. That's what I'm after."

Finn sighed. "Do girl problems ever go away? I thought I'd be all done with this shit by now."

"Who says you aren't?" Cooper asked. "Come on, dude. You've gotta be fucking kidding me. She's totally _yours_."

"That doesn't mean it's going to work," Finn said. He took another shot from the tray and closed his eyes as he shook his head. "I'm a total fucking disaster and she's going to London and less than a month ago I was the one making her puke on people's doorsteps _apparently_." He tossed his head back to take the drink and didn't bother with a lime.

"Yeah, well...what's done is done. At least, that's what I keep telling myself." Cooper matched the shot Finn had just taken.

Finn blinked slowly as the rapid-fire alcohol consumption started to catch up with him a little bit. He saw Cooper kind of pointing toward the stage area and when he turned, he saw Rachel standing there with the microphone in her hand.

As a bouncy, unfamiliar pop soundtrack started she looked right at them both and spoke. "This song is for two guys I know who need an attitude adjustment."

Finn felt his jaw open, like maybe he was actually going to say something defensive (like it would matter – she wasn't anywhere near him). Cooper laughed and shook his head. The tequila was obviously having the desired effect on him; Finn felt himself calm down once Rachel started singing so obviously her voice had the desired effect, too.

_Hey, hey… did you ever think there might be another way to just feel better, just feel better about today? Oh no, if you never wanna have to turn and go away you might feel better, might feel better if you stay…_

She was bouncing around in time with the song with that bright stage smile on her face. Both of the guys felt themselves smiling in response because she was just contagious like that. And when Rachel Berry was happy – the whole world was happy.

_Yeah, I bet you haven't heard a word I've said. Yeah, you've had enough of all your trying Just give up the state of mind you're in. If you want to be somebody else, if you're tired of fighting battles with yourself, if you want to be somebody else… change your mind, change your mind _

Finn was hypnotized by her as she stomped her foot and squeezed her eyes closed, her arm extended out to her side. She made it sound so simple and she broke it down into a format he could totally understand and…did she know every song ever made? Because she was owning this one and he had never heard it before and… he could feel himself reacting to the words, being cheered up despite his best efforts to remain clouded in doubt.

_Hey, hey – have you ever danced in the rain or thanked the sun, just for shining, just for shining o'er the sea? Oh no, take it all in, the world's a show and yeah, you look much better, look much better when you glow._

Rachel watched Finn's whole demeanor change while she was singing. She was glad. Sure, she had her worries and had her doubts about how everything was going to play out, but more than anything she was finally _happy._ And she just wanted him to be happy. She wanted Cooper and Charlie to work out because she and Finn were working out and … the world always looked better through the eyes of an optimist.

_Yeah, I bet you haven't heard a word I've said. Yeah, you've had enough of all your trying, just give up the state of mind you're in….If you want to be somebody else, if you're tired of fighting battles with yourself… if you want to be somebody else, change your mind, change your mind. _

She blinked once to clear her eyes before she looked at Finn. He always looked so….so hypnotized while she was singing. This time was certainly no exception, so she recognized this part as the proposal of sorts that it was…a proposal that he just relax. They both had things coming up in their lives, things they couldn't and wouldn't change. They just had to get through it one day at a time. And she never felt so certain that journey would seem short as long as he was waiting there at the end. He just needed to realize that nothing else mattered and _be there._ That was always what she needed. It was all she needed.

_Hey, hey, whatcha say? Should we both go and seize the day? 'Cause what's your hurry, what's your hurry anyway? Yeah, I bet you haven't heard a word I've said. Yeah, you've had enough of all your trying…so just give up the state of mind you're in. If you want to be somebody else, if you're tired of fighting battles with yourself, if you want to be somebody else….change your mind, change your mind. _

He was still nodding as she clipped the microphone back into the stand. She was sort of aware other people had been paying attention to her while she was singing, but her honest smile was all for him. Because long after she had stopped singing the last note, he was still nodding. Like he agreed. Like maybe his mind had already been changed for the better. Like he was totally ready to let go of the past. Like maybe, just maybe they were both on the same page. And that gave her very good reason to smile.


	25. From Disgusting to Downright Filthy

_**A/N: **__ This is for Lizzie (__**Paceismyhero**__) . Thanks for helping me find a job for Blaine and only laughing once or twice at how obsessive/compulsive I am. Also, hope your day is better than your weekend. This scene is parents free so that might help. Thanks to everyone else for the support and encouragement for a chapter that kicked my ass for no apparent reason. Y'all are amazing. As always, let me know what you think. _

_**Song: Don't You Want Me**__ by __**Human League**_

_**Disclaimer:**__ Previously mentioned._

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Twenty-Five: From Disgusting to Downright Filthy <strong>

The decision was made so quickly she didn't even have time to process it before his arm snaked out to grab her around the waist and tug her into her lap as he called out "Never mind, we're good!" to Josh and Katie, who had just arrived. Josh was busy looking for another chair because they were one short at the table; he just rolled his eyes when he realized _why _Finn had said that.

The boys had backed off the shots of tequila quite a bit in the two hours since Rachel had sung and now with the other couple's arrival. Instead the three had spent time sharing stories about Rachel in New York versus Rachel in Lima. Okay, really, Finn and Cooper had done most of the sharing while Rachel had spent most of the time with her face buried in her hands as one or the other looked on in amazement at some of the more outlandish things she had done. If there was anything to say about Rachel, it's that she had done some pretty crazy things without thinking of the consequences (which then came around to bite her in the ass—_hard.)_

"Okay, so…" Katie said. She paused to take a sip of her martini and looked over the rim of the glass expectantly at her husband, the Finn/Rachel piling and Rachel's friend, Cooper. "Explain to me how we're sitting here with two dudes from a band and two Broadway all-stars, in a _karaoke bar_ and no one from our table is singing."

Finn tilted his head up and gave Rachel a small smile. "Rachel already did. She was awesome like always," he said.

Rachel for her part couldn't hide the smile that warmed her face. Given the epic failure of sleeping the night before, she tiredly rested her head in the crook of his neck, her fingers tickling over his arm as his hand toyed with the loose fabric on the back of her shirt.

"Eh, Katie has a point," Cooper said. "Plus, most of these people still suck." He stood up and held a hand out. "C'mon."

Rachel let in a deep breath, and shook her head even as she took his hand. "Well, not everyone has our years of training."

"And Finn doesn't really sing," Josh protested, trying to defend why the band members weren't taking the stage. His gaze shifted between the other occupants of the table.

Rachel was now standing on her own two feet but looked at Finn questioningly. "He _can_ sing." She put her hands on her hips. "He can sing wonderfully."

Josh smiled good-naturedly. "I didn't say he _couldn't_, I said he _didn't_."

Rachel stopped and Cooper kind of gawked at her and then looked uncertainly at Cooper. The look on Rachel's face, the agreement and the passive, looking-for-a-comeback-ness was not something he'd seen on her often. Was _that_ what it took? A well-constructed, calm response?

"Oh," she said, the shifting in gears nothing more than a little squeak. She looked to Finn and he just shrugged. They would get into that later, she supposed. "Well, he should."

The singer that had been on stage was finishing up their second song (which Cooper took to mean no one was in line behind them) and was now looking around uncertainly. Cooper reached out to seize Rachel's hand and drag her before she could say or ask anything else.

"So what did she mean about your singing?" Katie asked interestedly, leaning forward on her elbows.

"Huh?" Finn asked. They had stopped with shooting, but he was still nursing a beer and had been for the better part of the last hour. The pleasant buzz ringing through his ears was making it hard to hear in the crowded room.

"You sing?" She asked, her voice a little more forceful.

Finn just shrugged. "Eh."

"But didn't you tell me you met her in glee club?" Katie demanded.

Josh raised an eyebrow in interest. "You did that shit? Were you any good?"

Finn shrugged again. This time it was a little more uncomfortable. "Yeah, I guess. I was the male lead. Rachel was the female lead."

Katie raised both eyebrows before she started shaking with laughter.

Finn rolled his eyes. "What's so funny, Katie?" His voice was annoyed. He knew she was going to have more to say about it.

"It's just… that's just so fucking cute. I can hardly stand it. Sometimes you two make me want to puke, you know?"

Finn rolled his eyes again but before he could reply, the bouncy strains of a song he vaguely recognized started playing. Something wrapped around his chest and held on tight. Wherever he recognized this song from, it wasn't necessarily _good_.

_You were working as a waitress in a cocktail bar when I met you. I picked you out, I shook you up, and turned you around, turned you into someone new…_

He sighed and turned around; his back had been to the stage, and it still was so he was mostly looking over his shoulder and when she hopped in a bouncy little circle in time to the lyrics Cooper had started singing, Finn's memory flashed back to a terrible and terribly _Rachel-like_ green dress…and a party in her basement.

The memory was complete when Rachel sent Cooper a flirty little smile before she yanked the second microphone out of its stand and started her own verse, walking around behind him and making eyes at him and….she had kind of looked at Blaine like that way back when. She hadn't looked at Finn quite like that the whole night back then, even when she was hanging off him, and he had recognized the special spark in her eyes when she was performing with someone and she was really enjoying herself. The spark was back again tonight, but she was wasting it on singing with another guy.

And then the song wove through their carefully spontaneous harmony and burst into a bouncy chorus, to which Rachel responded by launching into her patented jumping up and down while she was singing. Their voices blended and Finn couldn't help being seized by the same jealous feeling (although maybe this time it was even stronger) that had clawed at him all those years ago when he had been an outside observer to Rachel Berry _kissing another dude_.

It had been all mixed up then. When he had watched her and Blaine kiss during a game, he had pictured her kissing Puck because his heart was still just a little bit bruised. But then she had latched onto the kiss and he had known what Blaine was feeling, how soft her lips were, and what she tasted like and the only thing then he could focus on was keeping a straight face. If he held perfectly still and he didn't say anything and he didn't do anything then eventually the numbness would take over the hurt and he would be okay again. And really, at that time, he hadn't had the right to say anything even if he'd had the ability. _She wasn't his girlfriend_.

This time, she was.

He smiled as he watched her weave around Cooper, the guy moving with precision as he watched her. They had been co-stars together more than once, they had spent hours at rehearsal, and logically Finn knew that was how they managed to perform so well together. He hadn't seen them on stage; when he went to the city to see Rachel's play, Cooper hadn't been the one he saw her with. He didn't know why, but he knew if this was how they were when they were performed – leads or not –they deserved the awards they were nominated for.

And why couldn't he get that kiss he had watched her share with Blaine out of his head just because she and Cooper were singing this song?

"How does she _do_ that?" Katie asked, her eyes glued to the stage where Rachel was _still_ bouncing. Even smile on his face, she was still jumping and she was singing unbroken. She wasn't even a little bit out of breath.

Finn turned around to answer Katie's question and there was nothing but love in his tone. "She's always done that. She's_ crazy_." He pulled his beer up to his mouth and finally finished it with two long gulps. _Crazy enough that I watched her make out with a guy who was openly gay – and then the guy dated my stepbrother for a year and a half._ He shook his head. He remembered how that felt.

Cooper and Rachel shined through their applause from the drunken patrons before they returned to the table. They still hadn't found an extra chair, so Rachel dropped rather unceremoniously into Finn's lap and frowned. For his part, Finn grunted with the unexpected contact and shifted a little in his seat to accommodate her again; he wasn't exactly complaining about this arrangement.

"My drink is gone," she pouted. Katie looked over at Josh and raised her own empty glass. He shook his head and reached out to pick up first hers, then Rachel's, and then shifted his fingers around them so he could hold Finn's empty glass too. Cooper still had two-thirds of his drink said his "no thank you". He offered to help Josh, but Josh declined and brushed a kiss to the side of Katie's head before he left.

"So does that song remind you of kissing Blaine like it does me?" Finn asked.

Rachel looked confused. "When did _you _kiss Blaine?"

Finn shrugged. "Um, no. That's gross. But they say that when you sleep with someone, you sleep with everyone they've slept with too; I think the same principle applies to kissing."

Rachel's eyes were wide as she turned her head to look at him. "You've always placed too much importance on kissing."

"Only when it comes to you," he argued. Katie sat up in her chair a little bit. She'd felt Rachel's comment ratchet up the tension at the table just a little bit and she wondered vaguely what it would be like to have a conversation with so much history weighing down every single word out of your mouth. She frowned a little; she had told Finn she was worried about him and she was never moreso than in this moment when she realized how heavy their baggage was and how much they really needed to work through.

"And the fireworks when you kissed Quinn?" Rachel demanded. Finn shrugged. "Finn, for some of us kissing isn't that big of a deal. It's in a script or it just feels nice for a minute or… you know, whatever."

Finn sighed and looked at her seriously. He let his hand roam up her back to play with the ends of her hair. "I'm not talking about when I kiss someone. I'm talking about when _you_ kiss someone. Blaine was the first person I watched you kiss. It really sucked for me, just so you know."

"Blaine was _not_ the first person you watched me kiss," she protested. She leaned back into his touch and as his fingertips rubbed over the clasp of her bra, she shot him a warning glance that made him smile and sieved a little tension from the conversation at hand. "Our lockers were right across from each other during our sophomore year—when I was dating Jesse St. James."

He groaned at the feeling, still raw and just too strong, that shot through him when she said that stupid name. He _hated_ that guy.

"Yeah, I didn't exactly watch that," he muttered. Her eyes swept over his face. He was a little drunk, but not too bad. She looked at him skeptically before her face smoothed in realization.

She pressed a hand to her mouth to muffle her small and disbelieving laugh. "Wait. Is that the time you smacked yourself in the face with your locker door and got a black eye?"

Finn sighed as he heard Cooper and Katie _both_ start laughing at his expense. And they didn't even know the whole story. _Jerks_. "I might've been staring at you and then he walked up and swooped in with his big hairball of sucky assholeness and I might have turned away a little too fast. Okay?" He could feel his cheeks flush a little bit as Cooper's laugh ripped open and Katie's was muffled. "Just.. drop it. Who cares anymore anyway?"

Rachel's thumbs tripped lightly underneath his eyes. "I guess I always figured you got sucker punched or something."

He let his eyes close for a bit longer than just your average blink and gave a low hum, contented with her touch. "Not _literally_." He sighed and shook it off as Josh returned and distributed the drinks accordingly. Finn shook it off, threw off all the old memories, and looked at her with a scowl. "I wonder how Blaine Warbler and his awesome-tasting face are doing these days. I haven't heard from him since him and Kurt broke up."

Rachel smirked a little. He had obviously held onto some memories for a long time because of her. She wasn't sure if that was good or bad. The fact that Blaine and Kurt had continued to date in front of him for a year after she left, and he mostly remembered the one meaningless (if not kind of hot) kiss she had shared with the competitive, dreamy-eyed boy—well, it spoke volumes.

When she finally spoke, she had decided to go for total honesty because they had implemented that policy far too long ago to call it into question now. "Blaine is doing well," she admitted.

It took him a minute, especially because he had picked his beer up and given an appreciative tip of the glass toward Josh for getting it before he took a drink. He looked over at her curiously as he realized what she had actually said. "Wait—what? You dropped off the face of the earth for the rest of us and you kept in touch with Blaine? Does _Kurt_ know?"

Rachel shook her head as she picked up her Tokyo tea from the table and took a drink. She licked the syrupy residue from her lips before she spoke. "Kurt does not know, and I'd appreciate if you didn't tell him," she began. "It isn't secret, but I didn't see a need to hurt him with something trivial. Blaine is certainly easy enough to find if Kurt is so inclined. His job is not very private. His name is on the news or in the paper from time to time."

Finn scowled his concentration, trying to figure out exactly how he felt about what she was saying. "Uh-huh. What's his job?"

"He's a media relations associate for the ACLU. He lives in Washington D.C."

"That doesn't really explain how you still know him."

Cooper was frowning a little, but it was in concentration and not irritation. "Wait… is this that guy that comes through town like five or six times a year that I met?"

Rachel glanced over her shoulder at Cooper then thought better of it and shifted in Finn's lap a little so she could see him more easily. "Yes. That was Blaine."

"He was cool and all but… but you _kissed_ him? I mean, he's pretty obviously gay."

Finn snorted. "Yeah, he dated my brother for a long time."

And just like that, Finn and Cooper were on the same side; Finn wasn't jealous of Cooper necessarily and Cooper trusted Finn a little more. She could almost feel the air change as the two men, arguably two of the more important men in her life, clicked. She frowned. This was going to be trouble. Of course she wanted them to get along, just not at her expense.

Cooper laughed out loud. "Let me guess. Ray was trying to turn him?"

"No!" She scoffed, the high pitch of offense creeping into the gasp. "It was Spin the Bottle and we were _drunk…_and…" she closed her eyes and shook her head.

Cooper sighed and looked at the small brunette. "That's the kind of 'and' followed by more information. You might as well share. You're among friends."

"Yeah, right." She said dryly. She looked over at Finn. He had been touching her casually, his hands drifting over her denim-clad thighs and the finely rough material of her shirt; that had stopped. He was still touching her, but his hands weren't moving and that said something to her. He wasn't sure he was going to like whatever came next.

"You didn't…you didn't have sex with him, did you?" Cooper asked. Rachel wasn't guarded about much with him; he wasn't sure how guarded she would be in front of Finn, but he thought maybe that's what she would choose to hide. _Especially_ if it was his…brother's ex…and gross.

"No," she said. She felt Finn relax a little bit. There was no visible change in him. "I did make out with him a couple times, though."

"What?" Finn asked, the hand on her thigh tightening up. "But he's…he's…"

She looked at him with a nervous little grin. "Who cares, right? It was a long time ago."

"I care," Finn said, his voice hard.

"He went to Loyola because of some sort of family history with the law program there. He was intensely interested in the recording process and I had stayed in touch with him when I left, so when I was still out in Los Angeles recording when he moved, he looked me up." She gave a small shrug. "It was hard being out there, so secluded from all of you. Despite your claim that I fell off the face of the earth, I kept up contact as much as possible, but when you started preparing for sectionals, I had a really hard time with it."

Finn's exhale was slow as he watched her speak. She was talking to him, but was really speaking loudly enough that everyone could hear her answer.

"Well, Blaine totally understood how I was feeling. He and Kurt had broken up after graduation and he was quite lonely and uncertain and we were in such a large city that moved so fast…" her voice had grown thin and she finally made eye contact with Finn. "We held onto each other a little bit. We drank together a few times and…well, once we surpassed drunk and were more into highly intoxicated states, that's when our conversations got away from us and drifted to the Hudson/Hummel household and the boys we missed so much. It always inevitably led to making out as if that were comfort but…but we understood the realities of what was happening and it's not as though it went further."

"But he's gay," Finn finally managed.

Rachel nodded. "So he was safe for me and neither of us ever denied there was affection between us when we kissed. It wasn't love, it wasn't infatuation, and it wasn't ever going to go further."

Cooper shook his head. "You have got to be the most complicated person I've ever met. And I'm including myself in that list."

Rachel rolled her eyes and shook her head, but Finn nodded appreciatively so in the end she scowled at him. He rubbed her thigh reassuringly. "So let me get this straight. I'm supposed to not tell my brother that my now-girlfriend and then ex-girlfriend got it on with the boy he's still in love with?"

"You don't have to make it sound so underhanded. And we did not 'get it on'." She said, complete with airquotes at the end. That made the entire table laugh.

"I think you need another drink," Finn said simply.

"And I don't believe Kurt is pining for Blaine," Rachel continued, ignoring his previous statement. She turned her head entirely to look into his face. "He's fully committed to his job and…and he had that whole relationship with Ryan."

Finn's face broke into a small grin. "Uh-huh. And we wouldn't know anything about having whole relationships but wishing you were with someone else, would we?"

She really hadn't thought of it in those terms at all. She tilted her head. "You might know more about it than me."

He shook his head and openly scoffed. "Low blow," he said. He leaned forward and up just a little to give her a soft kiss. He pulled away and ignored Katie's exaggerated gagging sound. "Besides, I don't know about that anymore 'cause I learned my lesson." He gave her another soft kiss, followed by another.

She raised an eyebrow as she pulled away from him a gentle noise. "I certainly hope two weeks is not long enough to make you forget the lesson."

"…what lesson?" He asked, dragging his eyes open to look at her. His head was tipped back and his fingers were splayed over her back and it was safe to say he was totally wrapped up in the taste and feel of her. He would've been surprised if he could remember his own name.

"Finn!" she said, offering a playful swat at his chest.

Oh, yeah. That was it.

He just grinned up at her. "How would you feel about taking this back to my place?"

She flipped a glance over her shoulder to see Cooper at the door with a redhead and…when had _that_ happened? Just how long _was_ their conversation? Apparently, long enough for both Cooper and Finn to get out a "your place or mine" sort of question. "That would be fine, considering I think Cooper wants me to find other accommodations for the night anyway."

"How is it _your_ place, Finn?" Josh said with a trace of challenge to his voice.

Finn raised his hand from Rachel's back to flip Josh off at the same time he gave Rachel a puzzled look. "Huh?"

"Oh yeah, he's been talking to that redhead for like ten minutes while you two were making out," Katie supplied. She shrugged easily. "You know, I think he figured your date was going to end well so he…"

"Sexiled me," Rachel finished. She reached out to grab the drink she hadn't quite finished. "It's been a _long _time since I used that word."

Finn was still confused, but he was laughing at least. "Is that even a word? Like…what…"

"Didn't you have a signal with your frat brothers?"

"Yeah, man," Josh piped up. "I'm with her on this one. We had like a whole set of codes, even when I lived off-campus."

"Oh!" Finn said. "Okay. The light thing."

Rachel tilted her head. "What?"

"Well, the house I lived in was just…there just wasn't a lot of privacy. But at some point, someone had put all the light switches for rooms _outside_ the room so we would flip the light on and off before going into a room—like any time we had to go in and the door was closed." He looked at Rachel. "You and Cooper have a signal? Have you guys _lived_ together?"

She noticed that at least his voice didn't harden when he mentioned Cooper's name. And at least the calling Cooper 'that guy' had been short-lived. "No. Me and Cooper do not have a sex signal. I forgot my room key so he was just supposed to not leave without me."

"Roommate fail," Katie said simply. "It's okay. We actually have another spare bedroom if Finn's snoring gets too loud for you. Or if he won't give you back the covers or something. You'd just have to be willing to sleep on a futon instead of an actual bed."

Rachel gave a genuine smile. "Thank you, Katie."

"Welcome," she said easily. "My guess is that Finn won't let you leave his room anyway."

"My room?" He asked. "I wasn't planning on letting her leave my _lap_." His grip on her tightened a little bit. "Like… _ever_."

Josh rolled his eyes. "Whatever, dude. You're not going to be able to play tomorrow night at the pub with her sitting in your lap. Or practice tomorrow morning, for that matter."

Katie leaned into Josh with a smile and he wrapped his arm around her before kissing the side of her head. "Leave him alone. They'll eventually reach that part of a relationship where you don't have to be disgusting all the time."

"God, I hope not," Finn said. Rachel tried to suppress the smile as she looked at him.

"Well, we _will_ have to save some of it for Skype," she finally commented lightly.

"Sure," he replied. "But I have a feeling that's going to go from disgusting all the time to downright filthy some of the time."

"I'm counting on it," she said. He was too cute to resist when he looked at her like that and she took his face into her hands before she gave him a soft kiss. "I'm counting on a lot of things before we stop being disgusting."

He could see the heat in her eyes as she pulled away from the kiss. Between the look on her face, her hands on his skin, and the fact that his hand had snuck up to the waistband on her jeans just enough to tickle at the small of her back, he was pretty sure he couldn't wait another minute longer to be sexiled with her.

"Let's get outta here."


	26. We Say Stuff to Each Other

_**A/N: **__Thanks to Lizzie (Paceismyhero) for introducing me to the song, __**Uncertainly Certain**__ by __**Green River Ordinance**__, which got me through this part in a big way. And it's inspired some bigger and better things. Anyway… thanks to __**wood-u-like-2-no **__for helping me develop the concept of the band contest (I really hope this is plausible enough) and also helping me navigate some tough parts here. I owe most of the Fildos a world of thanks for listening to my somewhat endless bitching and for ridiculing my grammatically anal self when I deserve it. To everyone who has reviewed, especially this last round of reviews: you guys blew my mind in the best possible way. I hope this story lives up to the precedent I've set._

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><p><em><strong>Disclaimer: <strong>__I don't own Glee and I'm in no way affiliated with Fox, Ryan Murphy, or any of the other HMFIC. _

_**Just another reminder – this story is rated M for a few **__**reasons**__**and all of them come into play in this part. You are reading at your own risk and you have been reminded. Thank you.**_

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><p><strong>Chapter Twenty-Six: We Say Stuff to Each Other<strong>

It was dark in the house when they got there and they had no reason to expect that Josh and Katie were returning home any time soon. Josh and Katie had actually arranged to meet someone Josh worked with later; Finn had mentioned he might catch hell for missing the acquaintances' arrival but the overwhelming tone of the mention was that he didn't really care. Rachel was leaving the following morning to drive back to Lima and spend the weekend with her dads. Before she left, Hiram had mentioned that he wanted to put together a retirement party for Leroy now that the prodigal daughter had returned.

The stern black man had retired almost an entire year previously when some heart issues came to light and they had yet to actually celebrate because Rachel had never committed to a date. She had been unable to leave her show long enough because the truth of the matter was, with Hiram still working and Leroy uninterested, the party planning would fall on her shoulders. She was totally okay with that and was, in fact, looking forward to the opportunity. It was just a matter of timing, like almost everything else. It seemed like as good a time as any now because with her moving to London for a while, they had no idea if the chance would present itself again. She wasn't even going to think about what would happen when Hiram retired.

"So this party is going to be the weekend before you leave?"

They had plopped down on the couch, still in the dark, and were chatting casually. The full moon drifting in through the untreated windows was the only light and cast a faint bluish glow over everything but they were comfortable. They knew they would be going to bed on the early side because she had to drive back and he had band practice early-ish.

"Yes," she confirmed. "I have to be in Los Angeles for like four days before London, so we'll do the party on Saturday and then I'll leave on Monday."

He tipped his head back against the arm of the couch and yawned. She was curled up, half on top of him and pinned to the back of the couch. Her head was just under his collarbone, resting on his chest, and her hands traced idly at his stomach. The buzz he'd had earlier was fading but everything was just kind of sleepy and relaxed; she felt much the same way. The icy stares from the cab driver had cooled them down somewhat and there was no more urgency at the moment—just two worn out people who weren't quite ready for lights out.

"I still say you should just bail on those television shows and come back down here with me."

She smiled and he felt her cheek move through his shirt, making him smile too. "I already signed contracts for those. Plus, the roles are so tiny. I mean…I'm filming two of them for different shows in three days. The only way out of either is if their production schedules are running behind."

"How likely is that?"

She turned her face into him as she yawned and then settled her head back to where it had been. "Not very. They're both summer-season shows, so they air within a few weeks of filming. Besides, school won't be out until after I'm gone and you have a demo to record—you aren't available anyway."

His hand tickled down her arm. "Yeah, I know. And then who knows what will happen."

Her hand gave his side a little squeeze. "Let's hope for only good things."

"Yeah," he said absently. "I just wish there was a fast forward button…like on _life_."

She dragged her hand up and tipped her chin to rest of the back of it, propped against his chest so she could look at him directly. "Why would you wish that?"

"Well…" He dragged out the word and then his voice was quiet and certain. "I guess the only thing I can wish for right now is to just _know_ when we'll be in the same place again. 'Cause all this stuff…going out tonight, you visiting me for lunch…that's what I want."

Her heart dropped. "So I guess…" she started softly. She couldn't keep the emotion out of her voice and she paused to clear her throat a little bit, the rough sound uncharacteristic. "I guess it's going to come down to our timing being all wrong again." She sniffled and started to pull away, but his hand latched onto her so she couldn't move.

"No," he said simply. "I can wait for _that_. I've already told you that I'm going to figure out all this other stuff, too. I'm not exactly sure what I'll be doing in a few months either. Not anymore. So…I just wish I knew when we were going to figure it out, I'm not saying it has to be now. We're just going to use a _lot_ of patience."

"How exactly does the band contest work?" She asked, keeping her voice soft. She was still unsteady, still shaking, and she _knew_ she shouldn't have had a knee-jerk reaction to what he was saying but she couldn't help it. All of her reactions to him had been forceful, regardless of the actual nature of them, and it didn't seem like that would ever change. She was just glad he had enough patience to handle them, and truthfully it was one way she knew they complimented each other as people. And his hand on her shirt was helping her settle down again. Like everything else, it was just a matter of time.

"Well, first we do this demo. It's part of a statewide contest. I don't know how many bands they do it for, but I'm guessing it's at least a few. We record those over the long weekend, I think. Then they play them on the air the following week and have the listeners vote. I want to say there are ten bands doing demos, because they go on for two weeks with two bands every day. The five who win from _that_ do a music festival thing over the Fourth of July weekend. I guess they bring in all the state radio people or something plus they figure out who sold the most tickets and stuff. There's like, five pages explaining how they score it all and it's worse than stupid geometry ever was, I swear."

She laughed and he rolled his eyes but continued anyway.

"So then there's one winner for the state from that festival and there's a regional competition and I think at that point you add a couple more songs to the demo to make it an EP… and they have some sort of a small tour where you talk to radio stations in other states and…" he stops to yawn again and he offers an awkward shrug, unable to actually move his shoulder more than a small twitch because of the friction from the couch cushion. "It's just…it's pretty involved. That's part of the reason I didn't renew my contract at school. And I don't know what the other guys are going to do, really. I mean, Josh works for the football team so they start doing all their stuff over the summer and he can't just _be gone_. Brandon works for The Gap so all he has to do is save up his vacation time, but even then it's only a couple weeks..."

Her delicate snort snapped him out of whatever he was thinking of saying next and he looked at her with amusement in his eyes.

"What's so funny?"

"I'm sorry… just…" the snort had blossomed into a laugh and she buried her face in his chest. It was a minute before she could quash her amusement long enough to answer. He was watching her like she was half-cracked before she pulled her face up.

"He works for _The Gap_? The guy who was trying to be all smooth and manly and…"

"He works in their online offices. Not at _the store in the mall_," he scoffed gently. "He does something with their phone system for all the online orders and stuff."

She squeezed her eyes shut tightly and blew out a deep breath. "I'm sorry—just the thought of him working in retail and hitting on the high school students that shop there…"

He had to hand it to her—it_was_ quite the visual. It made him chuckle a little bit, too. "No, can you imagine? He would've been fired and charged with harrassment in the same week."

"Probably," she admitted. "Anyway…"

"Anyway, I'm just not sure how anything is going to come together," he admitted. "And I think maybe you felt that way the whole time you were out in California by yourself and I shouldn't be so hard on you about being friends with Blaine."

"Well, I know why you want me to tell Kurt and I have thought about it _a lot_. Usually only right after I talk to Blaine. But every single time, I've found reasons not to tell Kurt and…there has to be something in that. If he gives me any indication he wants to be in touch with him, then I'll make sure it's okay with Blaine and I'll give Kurt the information."

He tilted his head. "What d'you mean, you'd make sure it was okay with Blaine?"

"It's _his_ contact information," she said flatly.

"But where's your loyalty? You've been friends with Kurt _forever_."

"Truthfully, I haven't. I've only been friends with Kurt from the time he left McKinley. I've been friends with Blaine equally as long."

"That's crap. You're way better friends with Kurt than you are with Blaine."

"Why does it matter?" She sat back, feeling his defensiveness starting to rise. This time, he didn't keep her against him but instead let his hand fall uselessly to his side.

"I just don't get it."

"You don't _have_ to get it. You're not part of it."

He looked off to the side, his jaw set. "You know, that's not something I would ever expect _you_ to say to me. I thought you wanted me to be part of everything."

"But what we're talking about is hypothetical anyway."

"No, we're talking about me choosing sides; do I keep your secrets or do I keep Kurt's? You've put me in a position where I'm taking sides."

"I have not," she said. She climbed over him and off the couch to stand up. "There's not a battle here. We're _not_ fighting about this."

"What if I say we are?" He balanced his knuckles into the plush pillows of the couch and used the leverage to drag himself to sitting. "You aren't the only one who has a say."

She shook her head and held up her hand. "No, what I mean is we're not exactly involved in this. Blaine has never specifically asked me to lie to Kurt. Kurt has never asked me if I know how to get in touch with Blaine. Other than sharing memories here and there, Kurt has never even mentioned Blaine to me. And other than saying he misses Kurt very much, Blaine and I don't talk about it either. That's what I mean when I say we aren't fighting about this—it's because there's nothing to fight about." She folded her arms against her chest. "Maybe instead we should talk about _why _your first instinct is to believe that I'm bossing you around."

His jaw set and he looked away. He knew there was _no_ good response. They were right on the verge of having a major fight. He _knew _it—but he let himself speak anyway. "Because you're a total control freak."

She huffed out a breath and shook her head. "That may be true in certain aspects of my life. But I've done nothing to warrant your defensiveness."

"How could you just not tell Kurt you kissed someone he loved?"

"Telling isn't always all it's cracked up to be," she retorted.

"Are you… do you… _what_?"

She dropped her head and pinched the bridge of her nose between her fingers. She could feel tears starting. Once upon a time, the dramatic nature of crying had held huge draw for her. She'd known she could get anything she wanted with a few well-placed tears, mostly because she had grown up surrounded by men that barely knew how to handle a crying girl. Times had changed enough though and now she _hated_ it. Letting others see her cry when it wasn't part of a script was almost an invasion of privacy. There was no attention to be derived from it that she wanted.

"Rachel…are you trying to tell me that you _regret_ being honest with me?"

She sighed and looked steadily at him. "Does it even matter anymore?" Her voice was almost a growl.

"Depends on your answer," he replied coolly. He couldn't explain the ice in his veins—again, just like a figure of speech or something because he knew it was blood but it felt like maybe it was running cold or whatever, he wasn't sure how it was possible he just knew how it _felt_ and he hated it. He couldn't explain the way it made him feel, to learn that in spite of all the longing and the missing and the desire she claimed, she would be willing to take it all back. Not only that, but she might _lie_ so she could take it back.

Rachel. _Rachel Berry. _She had learned that lying was better? _Like, really_? C'mon.

"If I hadn't told you about that, it would've changed everything," she said slowly. Her voice was shaky and hesitant and she wasn't sure what it was he even wanted to hear. She had honestly only even considered it, wondered how things would change, in some dark and lonely moments. Because she knew if she hadn't told him then, they would've gone on. Rachel probably wouldn't have written a song, Quinn wouldn't have felt threatened and sold the song, Rachel wouldn't have left…it all would've just been _different_.

"Yup," he agreed. "But…like a good different?"

She swallowed hard. "We wouldn't have broken up."

His jaw flexed. "But can we…like how could it have been real if you were a liar, Rach?"

"I think you would've found out at some point and…"

"And I would've broken up with you."

He finished without a pause or a hesitation of any kind. She sucked in a breath and shot a glance over her shoulder in the general direction of the door. He frowned.

_Where was she going? It was like, dark and … she didn't really know her way around or anything._ He could tell by the way she swayed just a little as she stood that she wasn't entirely sober, even if it was just the fading kind of being even a little tipsy; he wasn't just going to let her leave, even if he was kind of pissed.

"Well, it's good to know there's no room for error." She bit her tongue to avoid calling him out as a total hypocrite. _He_ was the one who had lied. _He _was the one who had started that entire landslide by being dishonest and she had tried to brace it up, head it off at the pass…and it had all been so long ago anyway. The other people involved then weren't part of their lives now; they needed to just quit bringing it up and she _knew_ that. He was making her feel like she was sixteen again and it was both unwelcome and unpleasant.

"How is lying to me not a big fucking deal?" He asked. "How would… how would not telling me the truth make everything okay?"

She looked away from him and she frowned, turning her mouth into a quivering line. She blinked and sent her tears down her cheeks.

He felt a little bad, but more angry. And he couldn't explain why and it frustrated him. He couldn't handle the agitation anymore without standing so he stood up. "I'm still waiting for an answer," he noted, not so cool anymore.

She inhaled sharply. "That's…none of that is what I said."

"Then what did you mean? Please tell me because obviously I don't get it."

She shook her head and backed away. "I don't… there is _no good_ that can come of any of this, is there? There's no… there's just no point. You can't go back and change things. Regrets are useless. And it may have made for a nice, eyes-closed wondering at various points but really...how is this even a problem now?"

"I think being told you didn't learn anything from that go-round, except lying is the way to go, is a _huge _problem. It's like the world's _biggest_ problem."

"I _never_ said that," she said. She folded her arms against her chest and sniffled and just…how did they even get here? She wasn't sure. "I simply admitted telling you I kissed Puck changed everything back then. You broke up with me because I kissed him."

"You're not dumb," he sighed. "So don't _play_ dumb. That isn't the whole reason I broke up with you. I was over that part kind of quick, actually."

She tilted her head. "So why did you break up with me?"

"You were cruel about the whole thing. It was on purpose and just to hurt me and you don't hurt people you love on purpose. Look," he said simply, changing the conversation on a dime as the anger drained from his voice. He dropped his head and closed his eyes and he felt more like he was sixteen again than like he was an adult. "This stuff is all over with and it's just…it's not the point and I don't wanna do this with you. I've been in this relationship before and I don't want it again. Not with you."

She looked confused. He thought maybe he should keep talking—because _that_ was usually a good idea. _At least he could manage internal sarcasm now without it leaking out of his mouth._

"I just… I think you should tell Kurt. And I'm _glad_ for however jacked up it made things that you told me about Puck. That's our deal, yours and mine. We're just… we just say stuff to each other." He took a tentative step toward her and his heart fell a little when she stepped back. "I want to say stuff."

Her arms were folded tight across her chest and she was still frowning. "So say what you have to say because I have a lot to say and I refuse to let you interrupt once I get started."

He couldn't help it. He snorted out a laugh. She was still _Rachel_ for crying out loud. It was good to know. But he was also still _him_ and it took him a second's worth of stammering to get going.

"Okay…um… I just… I learned the hard way that lying to you doesn't do _anyone_ any good. I might've had good reasons for doing it, but in the end they just sort of ended up being crap. My lying to you did nothing but wreck our relationship and hurt you." He dropped his head and his voice. She wasn't looking at him anyway. "And when you get hurt… Rach, you know you do it or at least you _did_… when you get hurt, you attack."

"I…I don't…" she stammered a little and he had rarely seen her look that uncertain, so he took advantage of it to override her a little. And she let him. He already knew this was way different from what he had grown used to, but her small concession just made it more obvious. He also knew once she got going, his turn was over. So he'd better say what he needed to say.

"When you attack, no one stands a chance." He offered a shrug. "It's not…I don't know if that's changed about you. I just… I don't want you to feel like you have to attack _me._ So if we just tell each other the truth and if we don't second-guess being honest… well, I guess then you'll have less reason to be afraid and less reason to attack. Back then, I gave you a _huge_ reason to attack. I know I gave you everything you needed to make my life a living hell." He held up a hand when her mouth dropped open like she was going to talk. "And I did it to you, too. We were just… we were too young for all the shit we did to each other."

He dropped his voice to a low, gravelly grovel. "Let's … please let's not do it again."

Her voice was still unsteady as she talked and she actually stopped to clear her throat. He had only made the one furtive movement, and when she stepped back, he stayed away. He knew what it was and she both hated and loved knowing someone so well and having it reciprocated. She wasn't ready to kiss and make up or to even relax just yet.

She wanted her turn first. She _needed_ her turn first.

"You think…you jump to the conclusion that I'm trying to control you because your life for the last little while was so ordered. You're used to fighting for control. And I…I get it. And I _know_ I'm a control freak when it comes to me, Finn. But not when it comes to you. I've never had control when it comes to you and that's always just…" she raised her shoulder up and looked away from him. "It's a good thing and a bad thing." She blew out a long breath.

"We aren't in high school any more. And all I meant when I said we weren't going to fight about Kurt and Blaine and all that… well, it's not _our _relationship. We aren't immersed day after day in all that drama and in all those other people's lives. While I understand that you and Kurt have transcended whatever differences you had to become brothers, I also understand his relationship with Blaine, or lack thereof, is none of our business. We have our hands full with just the two of us, don't you think?"

"Well _you're_ a handful," he snorted gracelessly, but there was nothing antagonistic in his tone or his posture.

"I never claimed to be easy. In fact, I think Marilyn Monroe said it best."

"I don't…she was like, a flasher, or a baseball wife or something. What… how does baseball fit into this?" he asked. "Or…or barely holding your skirt down?"

She laughed a little bit, but it was almost disbelieving. "She was more than just a trophy wife, Finn. She was a social icon who changed the way the world appreciated beauty and the way they saw actresses. You know she did more than let her skirt blow up in a movie, just like you know the moon and New York City are more than a hundred miles apart."

"Sometimes I wonder _why_ you remember all this junk."

She shook her head and continued. "I'm pretty sure I told you not to interrupt me once I got going. Anyway, she basically said she could be selfish and insecure and hard to handle and out of control, but if someone couldn't handle her at her _worst_ than they didn't deserve to see all the good things about her."

She took a step toward him. "You have seen me at my worst. That time before I left… when I did what I did—that _was_ my worst." She dropped her head and squeezed her eyes closed. She wasn't sure she would even be able to finish and she knew she couldn't watch him while she said it. "I hurt someone I loved on purpose. I broke your trust. And I left before we worked any of it out. I was a younger, dumber version of myself, just like in the song that …"

He nodded. They were close enough to touch now and he moved his hand down her arm in a soothing way as she continued.

"Anyway I… well, I think disclosure was the only real option I had back then. I couldn't have kept that from you. And I'm still not sure I understand how you kept having sex with Santana a secret for as long as you did. I know why you tried but I don't understand _how_ you managed. I just… I can't keep secrets. And I like to think that's me, being at my best."

"It's one of the best parts about you," he agreed. "Can you see why I would be a little mad if I thought you were second guessing it? You're so…so honest. And sometimes being honest means you have to be brave. I'm _still_ not like that."

"But at your best you have so many wonderful qualities, Finn. I love you the way you are and I support the decisions you make and the friendships you have and…can you please just do the same for me?"

He felt like the world's biggest asshole when she asked. He finally didn't want to punch Cooper in the throat, so he supposed he had a good start. He could try letting her handle her own friendships with Kurt and Blaine and just stay out of it. He took her hand in his and she let him. He rubbed his thumb over her knuckles as he talked. "I think I can do that. As long as it isn't like the time before you left and Jesse came back. That really sucked."

She smiled. "Well, I haven't talked to him for a while. But…who knows? It's a small world." She gripped his hand a little more tightly and raised her arm, flipping his arm over her shoulder as she turned and started walking down the hall toward his room.

"Now that's not a cool thing to tease about," he muttered. "That guy still hopes he doesn't meet me in a dark alley."

"Finn…" she hedged. "You know you're not intimidating, right? It's like being threatened by a teddy bear."

"I could totally take him."

She looked over her shoulder him with an amused smirk at his blatant claim of masculinity. It seemed, no matter how much history they had, he still had to assert his role as an alpha male to some degree. So she decided to feed his ego a little bit; she knew way too much about the care and feeding of egos.

"I never said you _couldn't_. You definitely could, but you_ wouldn't_. You don't need to."

"What do you mean I don't _need_ to?"

"There are just _way_ more fun ways to mark your territory."

They were in his room now and he used his foot to snap the door closed behind him.

"Well maybe that's not what I'm after anymore anyway," he said simply. "I mean… that _was_ a long time ago."

"Exactly," she agreed. She dropped his hand and turned. "And I'm _still_ here with you. So what are you going to do about it?"

"Are you sure you have to leave tomorrow?" He asked, letting his eyes drift over her face when she reacted to the abrupt subject change. The bedroom window was on the other side of the house so they didn't have the benefit of soft moonlight. The room was dark but he could still see her perfectly. He slowly reached down and pulled the loose shirt away from her body, leaving her standing there in her jeans and her bra. Thinking back on it, he was pretty sure he already knew her bra was hot pink because he'd been able to see it through her shirt the whole night. Maybe he should mention it to her; then again, she was always at least a little bit of an exhibitionist—occupational hazard.

"I'm sure," she said. "You have plenty to do tomorrow anyway. You won't notice I'm gone," she said. Her hands had pressed against his chest, her shoes giving her better reach, and once they hit the hem, she pulled the shirt over his head with his help.

He nodded a little. "Yeah, tomorrow is going to be full of band stuff," he agreed. He reached down to unbutton her jeans as she looked down to mimic the motion with his. "…but I'm sure I'll notice you're gone."

"You will?"

"'Course I will," he said casually. Her jeans were tighter than his; his fell to the ground when they were unfastened but she guided hers down her legs. The casual nature of what they were doing wasn't lost on him. It was a lot slower, more comfortable and less insistent than even the night before, but it was still just like a preview of how life could always be.

She finished undressing slowly, like he did, and they kept chatting in low voices.

"But you'll come out for my dad's party, right?" She asked.

"Yeah," he said. "I'll come out for the whole weekend. My mom will be pretty thrilled, actually. Maybe I should call her now so she can calm down before I get there. Give her some time. Is Kurt coming down?"

"I don't know yet," she said. "He's just getting started on his winter stuff. I haven't even talked to him about the party."

"I'm sure he'll come down," he said. "What about family?"

She shrugged. "I haven't asked them yet. I need to start planning it. It's such short notice."

"Okay, well I'll be there and I'll help as much as I can from here."

Rachel smiled her agreement as they unmade the bed (…okay, so she made his bed before she left this morning. Big deal.)

He seemed to notice what he was doing as he tugged on the covers. "What..what… did you _make my bed_?" He asked. He shook his head when she nodded.

"Yes, Finn. Apparently some things never change."

Once they were under the covers, he pulled her right next to him and rubbed his nose against her ear while she settled in, spooned against him. "I'm kind of a slob," he admitted. "But I can make awesome breakfast."

"Oh, that sounds like a fantastic trade," she agreed. When she turned her head, it pressed her cheek against his lips and he kissed the warm skin and let his hands drift up her side.

"S'okay, we can live on other things," he said, brushing her hair away and kissing her ear. Her eyes fluttered closed. She dropped her hand back to his hipbone.

He groaned into the kiss as he repositioned his mouth over ear. His teeth scraping against her earlobe made her shudder a little, grinding against him unintentionally as he pulled his legs up to cradle her in his lap even though they both lay on their sides. His hand slid easily over the smooth skin around her hip and down to the juncture of her thighs. She moved her leg, and he pulled his legs up between hers, wrapping her on either side of his thighs and giving him easier access. His fingers nimbly found her clit and rubbed in a quick circle, just a teasing brush of touch. His head was drooped lazily, using his other arm as an extended pillow. As she moved again, grinding against him, he pressed a kiss to the curve between her neck and shoulder, followed by another with some tongue, and then a third with a love bite.

"Oh..oh my God…" she stammered. She opened her mouth and let out a raspy breath as he ground against her. She pressed back against him, the firm curve of her ass providing perfect resistance while his erection came to life and his own gasp wasn't anything more than a muted sound in the back of his throat.

It was basically a continuation of earlier; having her in his lap was going to kill him in the best way possible. Only this way, it was like they were snuggled together and he was pretty sure he would never get enough of being next to her _or_ being inside her.

She vaguely realized they had yet to have _normal_, face-to-face sex on a bed. Then again, there was a lot to be said for the warmth of him and all that bare skin pressed right against her. She sighed and dropped her leg just enough to hook it back over his top leg, inviting him even closer if that was physically possible.

"Love me…" she begged breathlessly. "_Please_?"

He brought his arm up around her and murmured "I already do"; with one thrust, he entered her at a totally different angle than she was prepared for and he must've found a way to hit just the right spot because she let out a low whine with his lunge. By his third tentative thrust, his hand had wandered back down to finger her and her hand was grasping frantically at his wrist. The combination of his fingers and his movement inside her as he sped up, as much as he could laying on his side, was pushing her close to the edge and _fast_. He felt her stop flailing and when she started moving more purposefully against him as she came undone entirely, he could feel the pressure building in himself. Her head rested back on his shoulder and she let out a fevered gasp that went straight through him. Her cheek against his and her body throbbing all around him drove him over the edge, too. He dropped his head to her shoulder when he came and sucked on the skin so hard he knew for sure she'd have a mark tomorrow. Her grip on his wrist was so tight it took no time at all for his fingers to start going numb.

He dropped his hand to the warm skin of her thigh to rest, their legs relaxed, and he slipped out of her body. They lay there catching their breath, still wrapped against and around each other in the cool, dark silence. The covers had slid somewhere down around his calves but he didn't care and he wasn't going to reach down and retrieve them. Everything he already needed was tucked up again him, right there in his arms, and he didn't want to move even one inch. He didn't want her to move one inch, either. He just wanted tomorrow to never actually show up. But he knew it would; it always did. So he held her just a little closer as they both drifted off to sleep without another word.

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><p><em>"I'm selfish, impatient, and a little insecure. I make mistakes, I am out of control and, at times, hard to handle. But if you can't handle me at my worst, then you sure as hell don't deserve me at my best." -Marilyn Monroe<em>


	27. Do It Yourself

**A/N: **Thanks to the many who have had a hand in this chapter. Lizzie, Leo, Kenz, Laura – you make my guys more like guys and my story come off the page and you are all awesome. Thanks for the replies, responses, questions, suggestions, etc. Keep 'em coming, seriously.

**Disclaimer: ** Previouslies

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Twenty-Seven : Do It Yourself <strong>

Finn already hated every second as it passed. This morning, saying goodbye, had totally not been great. Sure, adult Rachel had some pretty _fun_ ways to say goodbye and she made it look so easy. It was a smile, a kiss that didn't _really_ let go, and a promise to send him a text message when she arrived safely in Lima. In some ways, it made it easier for him, too. But it didn't really take away the numbness that he felt when she was gone and he knew already he'd never really get used to that feeling.

It hadn't been long since she left. He'd showered, not even looked at the clothes he put on as they came out of box, and then come to practice with the band. They'd only been at it for maybe an hour, hour and a half tops. The place they were playing at was new to them and it was more of a band-friendly venue. They had a drum set Finn could use and all the cables and amps and everything for the other guys already, except their guitars and Craig's mixer thing. They were planning on sticking around in the garage for most of the day before they had to start loading stuff up to take with them tonight. So really, it was a load-and-go proposition, which was kind of disappointing. For once, he wouldn't have minded the excuse to get physical and burn off some of this missing her. His ass was already starting to fall asleep from sitting on the stool.

And none of _that_would have mattered if he couldn't still feel her pressed against him, couldn't still feel her wrapped all around him, and if he didn't already miss her so damn much. He was fucking pathetic. How in the hell was he going to survive any of this if he couldn't last as long as it took her to drive from Columbus to Lima? He could still feel her mouth on his neck and he was pretty sure she'd given him a hickey like they were in fucking middle school. His hand went up to slap at the spot, hoping the slap would sting enough he wouldn't feel like his skin was still tingling from her touch this morning.

"… seriously, dude, what the fuck?" Josh was standing right in front him now.

"What?"

"You were _saying_? You were right in the middle of a fucking sentence."

"_What_?" Finn said again. He squeezed his eyes closed and shook his head.

"Your focus is worse than normal today and that's saying _a lot_," Josh said seriously. "Do I need to call Rachel and demand she get her cute little ass over here?"

"Did you just call my girlfriend _cute_?"

"She's so small there isn't really another word I could use. Plus, the last time someone else said she was hot we had to physically restrain you."

"No…no you don't have to call her. You _can't_ call her because she left this morning."

"Ohhhh…." Josh said, chuckling on the realization. "I get it."

"I doubt that. You and Katie don't have to deal with this bullshit," Finn said. "Have you _ever_?"

"No. We've never really been _separate_ like you and Rachel are gonna be. Once we were together it was kind of a done deal. But that's how Katie is, if you haven't noticed."

"Oh, I noticed," Finn mumbled. He could think of no less than three instances when he wanted her to back off and she refused without actually refusing. Like the night at the bar. When he had seen Rachel for the first time in years and he felt like the world stopped spinning—except for Katie, who kept on talking and telling him what to do like usual. He rolled his eyes. It would've been more annoying if her advice hadn't been _correct_. But whatever—who was counting at this point?

"Okay, well we're going to play it again. Maybe try, I don't know, _listening_. Since this is the song you started," Josh muttered. "Capiche?"

Finn blew out a breath and stood, feeling the blood rush into his legs and he groaned a little bit as he reached his hands over his head to stretch out his back. He nodded and rubbed at his eyes at the same time. "Yeah, sorry. Go ahead guys."

Brandon rolled his eyes and shook his head but he didn't say anything before he started picking out the beginning. This part sounded familiar. Finn kind of wondered where he'd stopped listening when he got distracted; he wasn't sure he could actually hear this song and _not_ think of Rachel.

"Wait," Finn said. "Wait, no."

Brandon stopped and looked up from where he'd been huddled around the fret of his acoustic. "What?"

"Stay low when you start in on the 'just' stuff…it sounds more like harmony if you go up high like that."

Brandon raised his eyebrows and looked over at Josh. Josh shrugged. "Don't look at me. Apparently he was some fucking choir boy or some shit in high school."

Brandon snorted out a laugh. "I'm sorry…what?"

Finn rolled his eyes. "I sang. I sung? Whatever, I know how to sing and I know more that you thought I guess, and I think you should stay low through that verse."

"Hey, hey, hey. No need to get your nuts in a knot," Brandon said easily. "Why don't _you_ sing it then?"

"I don't…" Finn flipped a glance from Brandon to Josh. "I don't particularly want to."

"You don't want to sing it," Brandon uttered, his tone flat and his gaze flipping around just like Finn's was. He scowled. "Well, I don't really want to play the fucking thing eleven times while you keep missing your cues to get shit like this sorted out _before_ we go play it a thousand more times to record it. So what, Princess? What do we have to do to get you to sing your _own_ song?"

Finn scowled. "What's the stick up your ass?"

"There is no stick up my ass. There's a deadline to get this done up _all_ of our asses. And this song… as much as I want to kill you instead of saying it, this song is really good. And it could win us the contest or whatever and we just need to fucking finish it, okay?" He started strumming again and looked at Finn. "You want it done a certain way? Do it yourself."

He was too busy picking his jaw up off the ground to hit the quick cue and he missed it, but Brandon just shook his head and played the introduction again like it was some kind of coda instead of Finn being retarded.

Finn jumped in with the words he'd given them, singing along to the tune that was half from his head and half based on the chord progression Brandon and Josh had worked out together the night before. He scowled in concentration as they reached the part he'd told Brandon to keep "low".

Why would he tell a guy that was barely a baritone to keep that part low? Maybe because he _knew_ he should be singing. His eyes slipped closed; it was easier to totally embarrass himself if he imagined Rachel could actually hear it. He was drumming out a beat on his thigh as he sang. The words were burned into his memory, like her touch was burned into his skin and like her own singing was still in his head. He didn't particularly notice when Brandon stopped playing and stared at him, dumbfounded.

Eventually, he realized he was standing there singing on his own, totally unaccompanied, and being gawked at by the other three band members. He was mostly sure he'd been singing the right words and—just…why were they staring at him?

"Jesus," Josh said, rolling his eyes. "Remind me why you didn't say you can sing a little sooner. 'Cause we've put up with Brandon's bullshit for so long thinking he was the only one who could _really_ sing and…"

About that point, Brandon's foot made contact with Josh's leg. "Thanks a lot, douchebag." He turned to Finn. "But he's fucking right. I guess I better learn how to play drums."

Finn shook his head. "No I… I..."

"You're singing that," Brandon said simply. "But go sit over there and make yourself double fucking useful."

"Wait," Craig piped up. "Can you drum and sing at the same time? We already know you can't walk and chew gum."

"Pretty sure if he can fuck a girl against a door he can sing and drum," Josh offered, strumming the bass guitar idly as he fiddled with his foot pedal.

Finn's jaw dropped and he emitted a gurgling sort of protest even as the other two looked at him with surprise and something looking like hope he would share details. It was pretty clear he couldn't come up with any words regardless. "Wh-why? What?"

"Please, Finn. Let's not assume you think Rachel is _quiet_." Josh said, his eyes still trained on the ground. He was tossing out the words casually. "And you already said our walls were thin. Guess what, dude? Works both ways."

Finn closed his eyes and shook his head, just totally unable to retort.

Brandon laughed out loud. "So _that's_ why you can't think. I _knew _she was go—"

"Finish that fucking sentence and I'll break your Goddamn face." Finn said sharply, his eyes flying open as he emerged from his trauma like someone had dumped a bucket of cold water over his head. "Might be an improvement."

"Whoa!" Brandon said, taking a step back. "Defensive much?"

"Just…no," Finn muttered as he dropped onto the stool and every muscle in his ass kind of ached in protest. He felt like he needed to go run laps or something. He was getting that restless, twitchy feeling of a little kid who was cooped up too much; maybe it was the fact that he spent his work week with ten year olds. "Just shut up and play the song again."

They were about halfway through their second go-round, filling in minor details with each additional pass, when Finn's phone rang. He stood up abruptly, letting the subtle beat drop out of the song as he did. Even though he couldn't hear the ringtone until he removed the phone from his pocket, he was disappointed when the tone he did hear wasn't Rachel's. He tossed his phone away and sat back down but he couldn't get back into the song. It was like he couldn't even hear it.

He called Kurt back when they took a little break and he stepped outside for the privacy he would need, plus it was hard to hear over something Brandon was playing on the keyboard. He was still fine-tuning something on the song and Finn didn't want to disturb that, especially if he was taking over lead vocals from the guy.

"Hello," Kurt said simply and Finn smiled. Most things with Kurt weren't questions and the way he answered his phone was no exception.

"Hey, man. You called?" He dropped his head and his fingers twitched restlessly at his belt loops.

"Yeah. I just need to know for sure if you want to go in on that birthday gift for Dad."

"For his birthday that's still months away?" He demanded. "Sure."

There was a long pause and he felt a little bit bad for being a tool. When Kurt answered, his voice was different. "I…you're right. I'm checking on you."

_I saw her at the airport and I know…well, I just wanted to check on you_.

Finn drew in a sharp breath and the words brought up a memory he wanted to not remember. Sometimes he wished there was a permanent delete button and he could get rid of the reminders.

"Talked to Rachel, huh?" He finally managed, swallowing hard as soon as the words were out.

_You saw her at the airport? Did you—did you talk to her?_

"For a minute," Kurt said idly. "She said she was heading back to Lima today so she couldn't really talk."

"Yeah, she left a couple hours ago." He frowned. "She was going to text me when she got there. I probably should've heard from her by now."

"This time will be different," Kurt said easily. "It will absolutely be different."

_She was different. You sound different, too. What happened?_

"Either way, she left." He said simply. "And it sucks just like it always did."

_Rachel happened. And now she's gone._

He swallowed hard and honestly, he tried to let Kurt's efforts at comfort seep in and do some good. But he could remember that feeling from before, and even if he hadn't really figured out what it was, he had put it into one whole vague category of 'missing her'. It got easier, but it never went away and now, even just two days later, it was like he had to go back to the start. Just more than two hours outside of seeing her, he missed her so much it hurt. And it was nothing compared to how it had felt then, which is _why_ he didn't want to remember it in the first place.

"She'll be back. Plus, she's not exactly _gone_. This really isn't like when she left. Although, shedisclosed some information when we were driving back home and I have to say, your reaction then makes perfect sense now."

_Finn, you can't…you haven't been with her for a long time now and you're with someone else now anyway and...you have to go on. You can't just stop._

"What'd she tell you?"

"I'm assuming she told me everything," Kurt said simply. His voice was low and sympathetic and it kind of made Finn want to throw his phone across the side yard he was standing in.

He couldn't…he couldn't do this. He couldn't go back to being the guy who missed her so much he had to think about it just to put one foot in front of the other.

_Did she say anything about me?_

_No. She didn't say much of anything, but she cried a little_.

_Is she okay, though?_

"Finn, you're seriously freaking me out. Are you okay?"

His eyes snapped open and he looked at the ground, rubbing the toe of his sneaker in the short weeds, sending the small rocks underneath scattering with one particularly careless kick. "I'm fine. I'm just…I think I'm going to call her and make sure she got there okay. I'll let you go. Thanks for...y'know. Just thanks."

_I don't know. I don't—I think she's overwhelmed._

_I'll call her and make sure she's okay in a little while. I'll let you go so you can get back to…whatever you're doing._

"You're welcome," Kurt said. "Dad made me call anyway. I didn't want to."

Finn smirked to himself; Kurt had said that more than once, especially during college. Especially the time right _after_ college. "Good, 'cause I didn't really want you to." It was easier to be mean when they both knew the other one didn't really mean it.

"All right then," he countered. "I'm coming out for her dad's retirement party so I'll see you in a couple weeks."

Finn just nodded. "Okay, man. Talk to you later."

"Laters!" Kurt offered before he hung up.

He couldn't explain why, but his hand was shaking now like it had then when called her. And it made him feel stupid and lonely and so many other things, because there was no way she had told Kurt everything 'cause she didn't _know_ everything.

The phone rang in his ear but her voice never cut it off. Somehow that made him feel even worse if that was possible. He didn't wait for her voicemail to pick up, he just finally hung up. He sat down on the ground, leaning against the faded aluminum siding on the side of the garage and pulled his knees up so his feet sat flat on the ground and he felt at least a little safer, all curled up there.

"_Just… you… you're.. it's you okay? I don't—what if this is the last time we ever see each other?"_

"_It won't be," she said, her sniffle making it obvious she was just as upset as he was. "You'll…you said you'll meet me." _

"_But what if I don't? And what if what we have left is what if and this is it?" _

_Her hand was on his chest, pressed into his bare skin just enough that her fingers left impressions. "I can't think like that or I won't leave, Finn. I won't go and I have to go." _

"_Why? Why do you have to go? You should just stay. Please? Just stay here and be with me. That's all I want." _

_He wasn't above begging. Not if it meant she would do what he wanted her to do so much—he was so afraid of her leaving and afraid of how it would change and just… he couldn't handle it. He didn't have a problem admitting it either, at least not to her._

"_I can't stay," she said. She leaned closer and gave him a soft kiss. "I have an obligation, Finn." _

"_No, you have a future," he admitted, his hands lingering the soft skin of her hips until it was clear she needed to pull away._

"_That too, I hope," she said sadly. Her voice was low, cautiously hoping it wouldn't carry through to her fathers. They could hear vague thumps and bumps in the house that meant her dads were up and moving around, preparing to take her to the airport any time. "Okay, so as soon as we leave, you can go. Or you can stay for a while. Just set the alarm when you leave?"_

_"Yeah," he agreed. His eyes slipped closed but it wasn't 'cause he was tired. It was 'cause it hurt to keep them open. "Rach,I…" _

_Her words about the alarm were muffled by the space between him and her closet, where she stood getting the clothes she'd left out for this morning and then dressing quickly. _

_She emerged a few minutes later and all he could really do was watch her move around the room. Everything was ready to go. Including the girl he loved. And all he could do was watch. He felt helpless. It just wasn't cool. _

_Her dad knocked on her bedroom door but fortunately didn't enter. Finn pulled the blankets up around himself anyway, just in case._

"_Are you ready, Ray? It's time to go."_

"_I'm ready Dad, just…I'm just finishing getting dressed. I'll be right down," she called back. She crossed the room to Finn again, bending down to give him one last kiss and pressing something into his hand. He already knew what it was. It was the purple page she'd given him—or actually, the one she had left for him. The note that sent him over here the previous night, loving her and feeling sick and desperate and…_

"_Don't forget that, okay? Please don't forget." _

"_I won't," he said, letting his hand hold her jaw one more time, as gently as he could manage. "I love you." _

"_I know," she said. She kissed his forehead and left without looking at him—and all he could do was watch her go. _

_Later that afternoon, he curled up on his own bed and it was really all he could do not to fall apart. He curled up because he thought he might be able to actually hold himself together; maybe he would have to get some tape or something if it got really bad. Was there some kind of tape that would let you breathe when it hurt or let you keep going when it hurt? Like – it would make you numb. He could totally use something like that. _

_His phone was in his hand but it sat still. He'd tried to call her a couple times. He wasn't sure how long it took to get to Los Angeles, especially when there was a two hour drive to the airport, but he was certain she was there now. _

_At least he hoped. He hoped she was there and okay. He hoped she had changed her mind and come back home with her dads. He hoped she would walk through his bedroom door and say she had just been messing around, even though she never did that—she never said she was kidding. Because she wasn't. She was always totally serious. He needed her because she was always serious, and she always meant what she said and…didn't she know by now that he needed her because she was the tape?_

_He laid there for the better part of the next day before his mom came and forced him out of bed to eat what looked like an entire cow on one plate. She told him of Kurt's conversation with Rachel while they had driven Kurt back from packing up his dorm room at Dalton, and how Rachel had arrived safely in Los Angeles. _

_But she hadn't called. And she hadn't answered. And he knew she wouldn't. Not saying anything was how she said goodbye._

He knew he couldn't stay in this spot forever. He had to go—he had a life and he had things to do and places to be (namely, band rehearsal now that he felt like he could breathe again.) Things had changed. He knew things were different, but it didn't stop him from feeling like his whole life was in a car on its way to Lima and there was nothing he could do but wait for a call that wouldn't come.

Until it did.

_Sorry it took so long, Cooper stole my phone. He called me pathetic because he thought I was trying to call you. And he was right, I did want to call you. So I'm sorry I didn't answer. We're here and we're safe. I love you. Call me when you can and I'll strappado Cooper until he lets me answer my phone. I love you. _

Technically it came three times since she didn't abbreviate in her texts.

…and what in the _hell_ was a strappado?


	28. Obscure Literary References For the Win

_**A/N: **__ Thanks to so many for helping me with this part. Hopefully I'm over the hurdle because this was a whole new level of stuck. Hopefully it flows and makes sense and fits in with the expectations each of you has for this story. Thanks to __**Lizzie, Jen, **__and __**Leo **__for the help. Seriously, each of you contributed in a major way and I hope most of all that you are pleased with the final product. Especially because my slow, over-obligated ass kept you waiting so long. _

_Thanks for waiting so long. _

_**Songs:**__The first one is __**In My Veins **__by __**Andrew Belle (feat. Erin McCarley)**__. In my head, this is the song that kind of started it all. It aired on __**Grey's Anatomy (ep 6X26: Death and All His Friends)**__ so that's kind of how I referenced it even if I, once again, totally stole it for my own purposes. Either way, the song is beautiful and deserves a listen and I loved it before it was on TV. Okay, so the second song… well, if you call yourself and Finchel fan and you don't know it, I'm not going to tell you. So there._

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><p><strong>Chapter Twenty-Eight: Obscure Literary References For the Win<strong>

Rachel really wasn't sure where she was going with the party-planning. She _hated_ event planning. She wanted to just show up and look good and… for all her attention to detail and control over every aspect of her life once-upon-a-time, she no longer craved that kind of control. She didn't want to be the hostess and she supposed it could be said she was only doing it because it was for one of her favorite people in the world.

Plus, it was just the sort of thing daughters did—especially daughters who had barely sent a card or engaged in a five minute phone call regarding the retirement which was now becoming old news. (She'd been busy and they always seemed to find better things to talk about – like when she nagged him about his latest visit with his cardiologist, because what was more pressing than her Daddy's continued good health?)

"Are you sure you're going to pull this off?" Cooper asked. He was actually set to audition in Chicago on Monday afternoon, and as such was leaving straight from Lima later on a Greyhound. He was packed, he'd already returned the rental car in Columbus and (much to Rachel's annoyance) he still hadn't talked to—or really even _about_—Charlie.

Rachel looked down at the notepad in her lap, the list a haphazard mix of items checked and crossed as completed and no longer necessary; then of course there were the ones left untouched with her pen, mocking her with the fact they still needed attention.

"Maybe," she said simply. She bit her lip and took a deep breath. "I'm pretty sure the invitations are in the mail if _someone _did his job while I was jogging this morning. That means there is no turning back."

Cooper looked up from his bag. He'd said something about his aftershave leaking and it seemed he was still sorting that out; despite the grossness of his task, he smiled easily at his friend. "Yeah, well…there's no mail service on Sunday. Give me five minutes with a lookout and a bobby-pin and I think you'll be fine if you want them back."

"Pretty sure that is against federal law." She looked down at her list again. "But I think I can get this all done."

"Pretty sure that hasn't stopped me before," he tossed back easily. He looked down in his bag. "Do you have another bag I can borrow? This is just disgusting."

She looked up from her list to raise her eyebrows at him. "…why would I loan you a bag when I think you're an idiot for going?"

"Well, you'll have to forgive me. Not all of us have the illustrious _Matt Jones_ begging us to work for him. Some of us have to just take the auditions we can find and go to…" he shuddered visibly "…open call."

She bypassed his snobbery (even though she would've said the same thing in his position) and her gaze was as direct as her words. "Look, Cooper… here's the thing. I've been exactly where you are and I handled it badly and I don't want to see you make the same mistake."

"You've told someone you love them and had them throw it back in your face? I don't think that's how it went down, at least not from what you told me."

She sighed a little and looked down at the notepad again. She wasn't crying—at least not _yet_—but the words blurred a little anyway. "That _is_ how it went down after college, Coop. I came back, I told him I wanted us to be something, and in the end he just stayed and took his job and…well." She looked back up and shrugged.

"You…but how was that _possible_? You finished your last semester by email or whatever after you got picked up by Broadway Across America."

She bit her lip and bit back a smile. His fingers were still covered in aftershave and he looked distracted even as he was questioning her. She had half a mind to take a picture, send it to Charlie, and ask her friend how she didn't think he was the most adorable thing ever.

"I was there, I remember. And I'm not saying it's _practical_. But in my mind, he could've ditched it all and just come on the road with me for a while. We could've been together and we would've been happy."

"Yeah, until real life kicked in," he said shortly. He finally excused himself to go wash his hands and she took the liberty of peeking inside his bag once he was gone; he totally needed _someone_ to take care of him. She was reasonably sure she didn't want it to be her (in some ways she had been _that_ friend for far too long), but she knew someone who might fill the role and then some.

The thing was, she was—in spite of her Jewish roots—totally _against_ this kind of meddling. But she was also frustrated with Cooper, frustrated with Charlie (who hadn't talked to her in the almost two weeks she'd been home), and frustrated because she'd had 48 hours to get used to having Finn Hudson just an arm's length away. She could tell it wasn't going to be an easy transition to be away from him now.

She frowned and took advantage of the opportunity provided by her alone time (one look inside the bag and she _knew_ he would be gone a minute because it was a huge mess and, honestly, he'd probably drag her shopping to replace everything that was still inside because it was all going to be ruined. At the very least, nearly everything he owned would smell like Old Spice for at least a year, in spite of vigorous scrubbing) to text Charlie.

_Cooper's auditioning in Chicago. WTF?_

She was as shocked as anyone. She was using an acronym that involved the f-word. Maybe she was finally growing up.

Charlie answered nearly immediately.

_What? Why?_

Rachel shook her head. She honestly wasn't sure. She _was_ quite certain she hadn't heard all the details of what had literally driven Cooper five hundred miles. And there had to be a specific reason he turned to Rachel for comfort. Something in their friendship or something he needed that only she could provide. And she'd been so wrapped up in her own life she wondered if she'd really been providing whatever he needed, or if she was just a terrible friend. She would have to ponder that later. She inhaled a deep breath and responded.

_He said he was taking every open call he could find. I think he's trying to give you space but I don't know. He won't talk. How are you?_

She set her notepad aside and gathered her knees up to her chest. She could hear the sink still running in her bathroom. Cooper came out, grabbed a few items from the bag that might be easily washed off, and went back into the bathroom, muttering under his breath. She couldn't hear everything, but she was pretty sure she heard something about Ziploc bags being the anecdote to 'dumb fucking luck'. She fought the urge to laugh. Her phone stayed silent and she fought the urge to just call Finn, too.

Watching them dance around was painful. She just…she thought maybe she and Finn were finally getting it right (after they'd been in the _exact_ spot Cooper and Charlie were) and she wanted the same thing for her friends. She thought they could be good together if Cooper could get over his more flighty tendencies and Charlie could swallow her abandonment issues. Cooper was _far_better than, head and shoulders above, some of the dirtbags she'd seen Charlie date. Cooper was the only guy (besides Finn, of course) she held in such high regard, truthfully. She had her phone in her hand to text him just that, but…how silly would that be? She knew he was asleep still and she had nothing of value to say.

_This sucks. How's the homewrecking?_

Rachel frowned. She knew sometimes that was all anyone could say about a given situation; sometimes life _did_ just suck. She shook her head at the last part.

_He kind of burned that down before I got involved. Sorry to disappoint. Very little drama._

She smiled. She was relatively glad it was true this time. Any lingering issues they had would be resolved with simple passage of time and a constant reassurance they could stay together and figure out ways to bridge all the other distance.

_Well that's good. I didn't want to interrupt all that with my crap. Is Coop ok? He won't call me back._

Rachel scowled and frowned at the same time. Cooper emerged from her bathroom, holding one of her bathroom towels in both hands, his freshly rinsed stuff tangled up into it. He stopped and his frown matched hers one he saw her.

"What?" He demanded. "Do I have something on my face? Because that's where all this aftershave is _supposed_ to go."

"Coop…" she protested quietly. She looked down at the phone in her hand again and wished Finn were there _again_. She heaved a deep breath and stood up before she bit her lip and looked at him expectantly. "Charlie just sent me a text asking how you are since you won't call her back. She didn't know you were going to Chicago."

He swallowed hard but didn't back down from the questions in her gaze. "Well…technically it's not her business, is it? She asked me to leave."

"But did she ask you to return? I mean…Cooper…" she said sadly. She shook her head.

"Rachel…no. This isn't going to be some happy little ending like you seem to think you have with Finn."

She tossed her phone onto the bed and looked at him warily. "Like I _seem to think I have_? Are you saying I'm delusional?"

He sighed. "In _your_ case, no. Half the reason I even came here was to make sure Finn wasn't a total douchebag because I kind of thought it was the case, but…just because you abandoned _him_ that long ago doesn't mean that's what I'm doing to Charlie."

"No, the two cases are separate even if they're similar," she argued. "I'm just trying to tell you that I might've found a way to stop fighting with myself and to just be happy. That's what I want for you."

"Well, I'm sorry, but I have no reason to expect it to go this way. She kicked me out. She told me to _leave_ because I told her I loved her."

"And don't you think loving her was enough reason to stay anyway?"

"Are you telling me honestly that you wish you had stayed in this stupid town that long ago? Because I can see it after less than two days—you don't belong here. You probably never did."

After college, she and Finn had broken the picture frame he'd kept in his room. It had fallen to the ground, carelessly forgotten when he kissed her stupid (and then they took it further); but it had seemed like a metaphor at the time. It was a huge metaphor to the girl who'd always looked for them. The picture of her and Finn during Rocky Horror, following the family-only performance they'd done. It had arguably been the best time for them as a couple. They had overcome so much and for that brief time, they were just _happy_. But in the end, it lay broken on the ground too, and it just became a metaphor; maybe a symbol of things that were broken, imperfect, and ultimately irreplaceable.

She knew now it was ridiculous to place all that emphasis on something. What's done was done. It was all in the past and they needed a fresh start if they were going to actually succeed this time. There were no more metaphors, no more symbols, and no more room for lonely and silent wishes. She and Finn were taking their last chance, and all she wanted was for Cooper to cut out the crap in the middle and see that he and Charlie deserved this kind of a chance too. If what they felt was real, they had to set all that other stuff aside.

"It's not that I wish I had stayed then," she started. She was already reaching for the iPod she'd cast to the nightstand when she returned from her run. "It's what I wish I had realized. The distance, the time, the different goals…we are the ones that made it matter. With some effort on both sides, things could be entirely different now. I'm just grateful we're putting in the effort now because it's not…loving someone isn't something you just get rid of. Sometimes when it's real, it's forever and it doesn't go away. And if that person runs away, it hurts. I hurt him when I left. And he hurt me when he didn't come with. I just want to spare my friends that pain."

He watched her curiously as she thumbed her way through her iPod before she puts it on the alarm clock radio situated haphazardly on the small table. It was the first (and still one of the only) things she'd actually unpacked from the shipped items.

"This is the song Finn actually _heard_ on the television show."

Cooper narrowed his eyes and sat down on the bed, moving the towel full of his stuff out of the way. "Have you written a song about _everything_?"

She laughed a little. "No, but I did a lot of writing about what was in my heart, and somehow that's always been this guy…I think you're going to be the same way about Charlie if you just keep leaving."

_Nothing goes as planned; everything will break. People say goodbye in their own special way. All that you rely on and all that you can fake will leave you in the morning and find you in the day._

His head turned and she opened her eyes when she sensed the movement.

_Everything will change, nothing stays the same. Nobody is perfect, oh, but everyone's to blame. Hey, oh all that you rely on and all that can save will leave you in the morning and find you in the day._

His eyes closed in concentration, like she's noticed they always do when he's listening to a new song; they popped open though, when he heard her quietly singing with the male lead. He looked at her sadly. Maybe she _did_ know what she was talking about it; that feeling of being addicted to someone, of being unable to shake feelings. She'd been unable to out run it. She had just put it into a song and kept running. He got it.

_Oh, you're in my veins and I cannot get you out. Oh, you're all I taste, the life inside of my mouth. Oh, you run away 'cause I am not what you found. Oh, you're in my veins and I cannot get you out. No, I cannot get you out. _

Her lips moved with the words and she was trying not to smile as she sang quietly along, her harmony now no less perfect than it was on the recording. She was singing straight from her heart.

"Well…" he said as the song strummed to an end. He shook his head. "I can see how that kind of obsession would make him call you."

She laughed a little, kicking her feet at him and even making gentle contact with his thigh. "Okay, first of all, my days as a stalker were numbered to my sophomore year. Second of all, he didn't say anything about the song. He said he heard my voice."

"Yeah, it's totally out of character for you to sing backup," he joked. "He probably wanted to make sure you weren't in the bell jar."

She rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Obscure literary references for the win. You see my point. And perhaps I _have_ written a song about everything pertaining to a relationship _not_ working out because at some point Finn and I have been there."

"Well, then you're probably going to get some new material," he said simply. "Because I don't think it's not going to work out this time."

"I already miss him, Coop," she whispered. "It's pathetic, I know, but two days wasn't enough. It's not _nearly_enough."

"I think it might be for me," he said simply. "But I might need you to write me a song or something—since you seem to have a knack for that. Can you do that while I'm in Chicago?"

She rolled her eyes. "I might be able to do something like that," she agreed. "As long as you promise me you're going back."

"I'm going back," Cooper agreed. He leaned over and looked inside his bag. "Relationships really fucking suck, you know?"

"I think Old Spice is honestly your bigger enemy at the moment," she quipped lightly. He raised his narrow-eyed gaze to her as Defying Gravity burst from the phone sitting in her lap. He couldn't help it—even if Charlie wasn't there to be his partner in obnoxiousness, he started singing along.

Rachel was motioning with her hand for him to be quiet as she laughed and answered. "Hello?"

"Hey, Diva," Kurt said but he immediately scoffed. "I thought you were in Lima. How in the hell has this not stopped? Must he do it _every _time?"

"Well, if he knew I was hoping you would provide him with a place to stay he might _stop doing that_," she said firmly, her warning glance trained on Cooper, who promptly did her bidding.

"_So_ much better," Kurt commented. "So that's why you called? To see if Cooper could stay with me?"

"Yes," she confirmed. "He's got an open call tomorrow so he'll be in town and without a next paycheck, his budget is kind of limited. Would you mind doing me this favor?"

"This favor in addition to all the coordinating I'm doing for your father's party?" He asked doubtfully.

Rachel sighed. _He could be such a martyr._ She hoped she had never sounded that put upon (and was choosing to ignore it if she had). "What coordinating? I don't believe I've asked for anything other than your attendance."

"Well, maybe you _should_," he said firmly. He let out a rush of words that included a request for her to Skype him all the possible samples for tablecloths and potential decorations before she managed to cut him off.

"I can't believe it's _me_ saying this, but Kurt… _focus!_" She said, finally pulling the phone away from her ear and tapping on the microphone to get his attention. "Can Cooper stay with you?"

He sighed. "Yes. That'd be fine," he breathed. "So… have you spoken with Finn?"

She swallowed hard. It was always Kurt's nature to be painfully direct but for some reason it still surprised her. "Not really. He called last night before his band went on, but it was loud and late and we didn't get much of a chance to talk."

"And how are you?" He asked, his voice low.

She let out a wobbly sigh. "I think I'm fine. This time apart is going to be terrible, though."

"At least you're both admitting it this time, though. Have you any idea how hard it was to be the go-between during your last two failed attempts—without all the facts no less?"

"We're both admitting it?" She asked slowly. Cooper was frantically motioning to his back. She finally pointed to a box and he left her alone (she was sure it was for only a moment because she didn't know _what_ was in the box she had directed him to, but she was reasonably certain it wouldn't be luggage).

"I think that's what makes the difference," Kurt says. "You know, you want to be together and so you are, geography be damned."

"I suppose it's a sign we've grown up," she said lightly. "I'm counting on you to help Cooper do the same while he's there."

"Oh."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"I thought you were expecting me to convert him," Kurt said lightly.

She couldn't help it—she laughed out loud. "No."

"Hey, I have to run—literally, as unfortunate as that is. My trainer is here. Send me those photos you wanted me to approve?"

She sighed and opened her mouth to protest, but he was already 'sending his love' and hanging up.

Sending his love.

_Sending all my love. Along the wires. _

"Coop, you don't need me to write you a song," she said. "I already know the perfect one. Luckily, me and Finn have already been here so we've got the song to go with it."

Cooper stood up from where he'd just made a total mess of her personal belongings by upending three boxes until the found a duffel bag.

She had just slipped out the keyboard on her phone to text something to Finn when her phone buzzed from her hand and she instantly had tears in her eyes when she saw his words.

_Being apart ain't easy on this love affair when two strangers learn to fall in love again. (We played this last night and I missed you. I love you, babe.)_

"What song?" Cooper said. She tossed her phone at him. She didn't need to text Finn back—she could call him after Cooper left.

She knew he would be there, forever hers and faithfully—from here on out. That was the point. It was what her friends deserved, what she had, and it was the best thing in the world. _He_ was the best thing in the world. And they were right there together. They were in the same place, so she didn't even need to miss him; not this time.


	29. The Words You Say to Me

_**A/N: **Thanks to **Lizzie (Paceismyhero) **and **Jen (wants2beawriter) **for listening to my incessant chatter when I had a breakthrough on this. I've been wondering how to get to the destination I had in mind for this story for a while now. I sincerely apologize for my lack of direction leading to a lack of updating, but we're in the home stretch. I'm thinking maybe four chapters left-yay! These chapters have been/will be brought to you by the fantastic (and fantastically fitting) song **Follow Through** by **Gavin DeGraw**. Chapter title(s) will be from the lyrics because this song is basically what Finn has been saying to her all along and just...I'm not even going to start with the gushing, okay? It's perfect, please listen. That is all._

_**Above everything else in this rambling note, I owe everyone still reading, still replying, and still interested a huge thanks. It seems so small to include it here, but it's not small. It's been everything keeping me going on this story. And I hope you love this part and the direction this story is taking as much as I do. Seriously, THANK YOU! **_

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><p><strong>Chapter Twenty-Nine: The Words You Say to Me <strong>

The next couple weeks were full of activity and hardly having time to speak to one another. Rachel was in over her head with the party planning. She had admitted over Skype chat she'd hoped for minimal turnout due to the short notice; far more people had been able to come than she'd anticipated so she was rushing through the setup, hoping to be mostly done in time for Finn's arrival late Friday night.

His band played a gig but he'd left Columbus afterward. It was nearly two in the morning and he was still buzzing—between drumming for two hours and seeing her, there was no fucking way he was going to sleep any time soon. He was like a kid on Christmas Eve who was all jacked up on hot chocolate and determination to catch Santa Claus-or y'know, the grown-up and horny equivalent. He'd called her as he left and then had continuously fought the urge to do it again. (He knew she was totally tired and not feeling the same at all, but that little bit of knowledge wasn't helping him; not even a little.)

He texted her from the driveway at her dads' house, even though his mom thought he should head back to their house and meet Rachel tomorrow. He'd also texted Kurt to go mess up his old bed; it kinda felt like high school all over again. Then he remembered the time senior year Kurt had been _out_ for the request and…well, all hell had broken loose. His mom _still_ didn't know it was a _girl_ who kept him out late the last time he'd been to Rachel's. Most of his late-night senior year stuff had involved hanging out with Puck, a twelve-pack, and the water tower…and the parents at least knew about the _person_ he was with those times.

Speaking of Puck… he needed to visit the dude when he was in town 'cause Puck had always been the one helping him with songs and it felt _wrong_ to just put one on his album without that particular approval (like…_album_ alright? Shit was getting _serious_ and… he just kinda wanted to catch up with Puck about it for some reason.)

So anyway, he texted Rachel and was surprised when instead of telling him to climb a tree or something—good thing she loved him and knew he was not so good at that kinda thing—she appeared in the open front door with a huge smile on her face. She looked tired and he felt like a douche for showing up so late but he _needed_ to see her because he had missed her so much. That was all he wanted. Seeing her in, like, four dimensions or whatever the hell and touching her instead of just thinking about touching her and…how had he survived like a decade without it and now it had only been two weeks and he was a junkie all of a sudden? She was amazing and he was…well, he was _whipped._

Finn tripped out the car (okay, not literally…he wasn't _that_ bad anymore) and up to the door rather quickly, all things considered. She looked tired, but her smile was bright, and all of a sudden, he remembered the last time he was in her house. That was enough to keep him in check a little. Then again, that time she hadn't even answered the door; her dad had. He was pretty sure his face then had mirrored Hiram Berry's—sad and nervous; when he saw Rachel, she was on her bed and looking through a purple folder of some kind looking…well…terrified. When she'd seen him, she had looked so sad, too.

But tonight, there was none of that even though her words were almost the same.

"Shh…" she said carefully, taking his hand. "My dads are asleep so we have to be quiet."

_It was just…just too much. They had started making out because…well, history had already kind of proven he couldn't really keep his hands or his __**lips **__off her and it didn't really seem to matter if he was dating Quinn. He didn't want Rachel to leave and he wasn't sure anything had sucked harder in his whole life. He really, really didn't want her to leave. He couldn't just…he couldn't just say goodbye. _

_It was too much._

_So he pulled away and ran out, begging her not to tell anyone about it and whoa—parallels. Except for he hadn't actually…well…he was a guy and he was standing on the edge of that but he hadn't fallen just yet. Except he __**had **__fallen, just not in the super embarrassing way; just in the way that was totally useless because now she was leaving him. So he ran away but he got stuck at her front door. He was having some trouble breathing and thinking and it was …all… just too much. _

_He could feel tears behind his eyes and he hated that feeling more than anything—maybe even more than the feeling of her leaving. The closer tomorrow got, he could __**feel **__her leaving; it was scary and sucky and he had no idea what he would do once she was gone except maybe he would just be gone, too. Just in a different way. He never should've really gone back to Quinn because going back couldn't undo the problems or fix them and he knew it now, he __**knew **__it but it didn't matter what he knew or what he learned or what he shouldn't have done because she was leaving._

_So why couldn't he leave her, too? It seemed like that might be the only fair thing. _

_Her hand on his arm was the first thing he really felt that he didn't totally hate when he stood there at the front door. The house was dark; her dads had interrupted their fighting with soft words and worried eyes to say goodnight. She said they were as worried about him as they were about her; she said her dads had been watching out for him (like going to basketball games and stuff and he had been __**so sure**__that was Hiram in the stands the one time at least) and they were going to continue doing so because they knew his senior year was his year to shine. _

_And then he had told her it didn't matter and it felt like he might be dying instead of shining and it was her fault and then she had unleashed on him about how unfair it was and…well, that's how they'd gotten downstairs with his heart in his throat and her hand on his arm. He didn't want to fight any more. He didn't want to pretend he didn't love her, either. _

"_Come on," she begged softly. "Let's not…let's not do this. Let's go out on a good note. Please? Just…come back up." _

_He let the door slam shut, the noise only loud because the rest of the house was so quiet, and moved his hand from the doorknob to put it on hers. "Um…yeah. Okay," he mumbled. He sniffled a little bit and he could feel all the 'too much' backing down a little. He knew it would be back, but maybe he could ignore it for a little longer so he could just…well, he wanted to kiss her and hold on to her. _

_Even if he could only do it for right now; even if he wouldn't tell anyone else._

_She held her finger up to her lips and he wanted to kiss it away—her finger and like, everything else._

"_Shh… my dads are asleep now so we have to be quiet." _

This time was different in a lot of ways, though. He could see the faint outline of some of the party stuff all around the house—on the walls, on the table in the kitchen, and going up the stairway. She'd always had a thing for lights, and it didn't surprise him as he ran his open palm over the wood that they were tangled around the banister. He smiled a little to himself. _Of course_ everything was ready and she'd been totally freaking herself out over nothing. She wouldn't be…well… _recognizable_ any other way. He loved her the way she had been—and the way she was all grown up.

They made it into her room and she closed the door before either of them were relaxed enough to do anything other than breathe.

Other than bare walls and boxes piled everywhere, the room was the same. It_ smelled _like her. And even though he could feel her hand in his, just sitting there instead of leading him, being in the room poured over him like a wave. At first it was almost cold, kind of a shock, but it warmed up.

"It's weird, isn't it?" She asked, wrinkling her nose at him a little. "It's weird to be back here."

He nodded and blew out a breath. "Yeah, kinda…" he looked around obviously. "I like what you've done with the place."

She laughed and pulled her hand back to rest both hands on her hips. "Well, you should be careful with those comments because I seem to remember a similar decorating scheme back at the place your current residence."

He laughed, too. It could probably be argued they were too much alike in some ways, especially at the given moment. Two people without a home, without any sort of defined future—well, outside of what they were to one another and what they would _always_ be to one another. That much seemed perfectly clear at least.

He shrugged it off. "I'm gonna sound like a loser, but I don't care. I missed you," he admitted, stepping closer and pulling her next to him. "I'm happy right now."

"Me, too," she said, running her hands up his arms slowly. "I missed touching you."

"The last time we were here, things were kinda awkward," he mumbled, his hands following her arms up just like hers had just done on his. "Do you think we're gonna get it right this time?"

She nodded. "I really, really do."

"Me, too," he breathed, dropping his mouth down to meet hers for a kiss.

The kiss had a life of its own, almost, and she wrapped her fist up in his t-shirt to pull him with her as she moved back to the bed. The bed was tall enough she had to climb up a little, but he didn't stop kissing her while she did. He put his hands on her elbows, giving her the leverage she needed to make the move, then he crawled smoothly on his knuckles all the way up the bed, following where she led. Once her head hit the rumpled pillows, she reached out for the bottom of his shirt and pulled it all the way up, her eyes flashing in impatience when he sat back on his heels (_when did he lose his shoes? God, kissing her kind of took away even his basic sense of time and space_) to pull it over his head quickly. He tugged her up just long enough to take off the tanktop she had worn to bed and he grinned when he realized she hadn't been wearing a bra. He'd kind of already known but he didn't mind being reminded, either.

_Boobs were like… his favorite thing in the history of ever. _He'd never figured out the God stuff, but if he ever bothered to, he was seriously thanking whatever or whoever for _those_ first.

She laughed out loud. "I'm glad you like them?"

_Oh, hell. _He'd already lost control of his mouth. He'd said that out loud? Yeah, this was kind of as awkward as last time. He needed to get it together because, as much as this was the same as then, it was totally different too. And it was different in all the good ways that counted—like counted _forever_.

He smiled. "I _love_ them," he said. Oh well… he spoke without thinking about it sometimes. He might as well start owning it at some point, right?

"I love _you_," she said, her lips teasing his a little. He slipped his arm around her bare back to hold her close to his naked chest and he just...he loved it when they were just skin-to-skin. He didn't think he'd ever actually get enough of the feeling, her chest tucked up tight against him as she breathed fast.

"I love you back," he agreed, attacking her with his mouth. It all went fast from there; they had been apart for two weeks that felt almost like a lifetime. Neither one would ever really be able to say how she lost her pants or he lost his, but they did. Neither would be able to say whether she had rolled her hips into his first or if he had pressed inside her first, but it happened. And neither would really be able to say who came first because they both latched onto the other and cried names into sweaty skin all at once.

He knew he was the first to kind of pull away but that was only because there was really no other way for it to go…and he wasn't going far. He sighed once he landed on his back in her bed, his breathing still irregular and her hand tangled in his. He was okay with it all because he knew tomorrow there was no flight to Los Angeles. No recording contract. No work. There was no reason they had to hurry away from each other. Truth be told, now that he had a glimpse of what it was like, it was how he _always_ wanted to be.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked. He felt her turn her head to look at him.

He licked his lips and looked over at her, squeezing her hand and pulling their joined hands up to flop across his chest a little. "Well…we don't _really_ have anywhere to be tomorrow. It's kind of a first for us."

He wanted to tell her he hoped it was the first of many and… even though he'd been back in bed with her for what felt like ten seconds, it was slamming into him like a freight train. It was going to _kill_ him to watch her go this time, even if they were together _like that_ when she did. He was ready to just…to just _go_. Could he slip that into conversation, even in the middle of the night?

Her smile was wide and bright. "I think technically my dads expect me downstairs for breakfast at a reasonable hour. Daddy mentioned he was looking forward to at least one 'taste of normalcy' before party guests start arriving…and the caterers are supposed to arrive around noon." She paused for a while, rolling so she could paint shapes on his bare arm with her finger. "…but I have to admit, the idea of so little being expected for tomorrow is pretty appealing."

He kissed her forehead. "You said you'll need my help with a few things, though?"

"Yes," she admitted. "I stopped by the fire station this afternoon and Puck agreed to help as well. Between the two of you, you should be able to get what I need finished."

…_including your song_, he thought. But he wasn't going to say it because he wanted to surprise her. As far as he knew, she hadn't actually _heard_ much of it despite having bugged him about it a couple of times. She was just gonna have to wait. The rest of it—all the future stuff—would have to wait, too.

He was glad he knew there was going to be a tomorrow, but he was starting to look beyond.

* * *

><p>"Well, Ray…I think the party went fairly well," her Dad said. The group was kicked back on the back patio on the plush furniture Hiram had uncovered specifically for Leroy's party, enjoying the warm night that seemed more like summer than spring. It seemed a little strange for all of them, the younger segment being old enough to drink legally for the first time since they'd been together and under the Berry roof the last time. Rachel and Kurt were still sipping on sangria, but the other men around—Leroy, Hiram, Puck, and Finn—had all <em>regressed <em>to beer, at least according to Kurt when he grabbed the last round. It felt to Rachel, in many ways, as if her life was complete for the first time in a decade.

"Agreed," Kurt murmured appreciatively against his glass. "Although I'm still technically awaiting the email with the coordination scheme for final approval on decor," he added, slipping a sly glance toward Rachel.

"God," Puck huffed out. "You two… you can't control her from Chicago. She can't control you from here. You two haven't fuckin' figured that out yet? You guys are _still_ the same damn person." He shook his head and tipped the glass beer mug back to take a drink. Finn laughed appreciatively.

"Yeah, some things never change," he agreed. He looked over at Rachel; it wasn't _totally _true, but it was true in some pretty important ways. And after years of convincing himself the differences would kill him—had killed _them_—he was still getting used to the idea his words spoke.

"Yeah, especially not the late night texts being asked to _cover for your brother. _ Felt just like high school," Kurt noted. By taking a drink, he totally missed the casual, matching smirks Hiram and Leroy exchanged. Puck snorted, choking a little on the healthy drink of beer he'd taken. Finn was sitting across from Kurt, but that didn't stop him from reaching across the tiled café table in an attempt to smack his brother.

Rachel tugged on his arm because it was still attached to the inside of her knee; it had been comfortably resting as a beacon of 'we're together' which hadn't gone unnoticed entirely by her fathers. (So much for the walk of shame she'd made Finn walk before the dads got up that morning.)

"What is he talking about?"

Finn stopped trying to hit Kurt and just reached his hand up to the uncomfortably hot back of his neck. "Rach…" his voice and his eyes begged her to _drop it_.

"Oh, y'know… the whole _go mess up my bed so our parents won't notice I didn't make it home last night_ thing," Kurt clarified.

Rachel's eyes grew wide. Her dads turned toward each other, burying their faces against each other to hide their laughter. Puck didn't even bother trying to hide his. Finn gave his own neck a squeeze, slipping a glance over to see Rachel's reaction.

"You're a lot fuckin' smarter about that kinda stuff than I probably ever gave you credit for," Puck said through his laughter.

"_You _didn't know about this, right?" Leroy asked Rachel. "You never…"

"Who would I have texted, Daddy?" Rachel responded. "I'm sure Dad never would've tried to cover for me that way, if it were even necessary. You guys knew what I was doing before I did it half the time."

"True," Leroy admitted. "Like the morning you left for L.A."

"_What_?" Finn and Rachel both burst out at the same time. Kurt, sensing the attention was no longer on him for his overshare, eyed them both predatorily and wondered how much information they would give up in the present company. Puck just looked confused as hell.

"Oh, come on," Leroy said. "I'm certain retaining my knowledge of the boy in your bed _then_ is half the reason I have a heart condition _now_."

Hiram didn't appear amused when he looked back and forth between Rachel, Finn, and Leroy. He'd always been the more laid-back father, at least in the eyes of the two boyfriends (former and once-again-current, respectively) who were sitting before him. He also hadn't known about the secret before so was silently giving Rachel a really dirty look…Finn, too, since they were basically attached on the loveseat.

"I listened to your drunken rambling about Rachel leaving for _how _long and I didn't know _anything_ about this?" Puck asked. Rachel's eyes had darted around the entire group, and finally settled on Finn. His head was down, doing the exact opposite of her and _avoiding_ the glares.

"You didn't tell anyone?" She asked.

"No, I…I mean…" he blew out a breath. He squeezed his eyes shut. "Just no. I didn't ever tell anyone."

She didn't necessarily want _Puck_ to put the pieces together (the pieces which included cheating, sneaking around, and lying by omission about it all). Although she was dead certain he already had, he wasn't saying anything in front of her fathers either. She was grateful for that and it looked like maybe she'd have to visit the fire station to convey her thanks before she left.

"So the real question now is when you're going to make an honest woman out of our daughter," Hiram added, once the surprise had worn off a little. His tone was illegible, somewhere between amused and stern. "…because with the way you stole out of her room at dawn _today_, it seems as though you're beginning again in spite of her departure on Monday."

"_Dad_!" Rachel barked out sharply, burying her face in her hands.

For Finn, it looked like the thoughts that had kept him up almost all night were going to come into play. He wasn't totally certain about bringing it up now—like, with an _audience_, exactly—but then again, when had she ever shied away from things being less than totally private? Really, her embarrassment about the whole spending-the-night thing was only because she had never suspected anyone knew. It was the element of surprise she hated, not the actual laundry-airing. He knew her well enough to realize that much was true. So he would _ease_ in a little…maybe _start_ something they could finish later in private. (_With less clothes maybe and quit judging, he hadn't seen his hot girlfriend in two weeks and she was leaving again_.)

And as Hiram started to squabble with her, he cut in quietly. He had witnessed their bickering in high school and, like Leroy, learned to shrug it off as the two being too much alike for their own good.

"Actually, I've been thinking a lot about that."

His words were enough to silence them both. Hiram had a small grin tickling at the corner of his lips but Rachel… Rachel didn't look particularly amused. She looked surprised.

And to review, she _hated_ being surprised.

"The last couple weeks have kinda sucked ass," he admitted. He was only glancing at her, not daring to _look_. Even though their only real physical contact was his arm draped across her thigh and his hand at her knee, he could feel that she'd tensed up and was waiting for the rest of his words. "..'cause I've been trying to imagine how it's going to go down when you're there and I'm still here, missing you like always."

Once he did look over at her, the other people kind of disappeared or at least, he forgot they were there so he forgot to watch his mouth. Her eyes were huge and liquid and…he couldn't look away. Nothing else, no one else really existed when she looked at him like that.

"Maybe we should just get married and I should come with you." He blew out a shaky breath and fought the urge to revisit most of his lunch and the beer he'd nearly finished 'cause this wasn't exactly the plan. Then again, it wasn't like he'd really _had_ a plan so… whatever. "Will you?"

"Will I… _will I marry you_?" She stammered out in disbelief.

He could barely swallow over the frantic, nervous pounding in his chest. He wasn't sure he would be able to hear it if she answered, the blood was so loud in his ears. Her hesitation, though… that he could _hear_. He could _feel _it.

He licked his lips and tried again. "C'mon. Take a chance on me." He said the words slowly, carefully measuring them and trying not puke. He definitely didn't want her to think this was as much of a surprise to _him_ as it was to _her_ because she hated surprises and he knew that and _what was he doing?_

She closed her eyes and breathed out a long, steady breath before she choked out words that were way less steady. "I'm sorry…I …I _can't_." She stood up and let his arm slip away from her body, pleading for him to _understand_ with one last look before she ran away.

After she was gone the last look on her face still burned through him. He thought he saw one other plea written there in his memory, maybe even stronger than the one he'd made with his voice. Hers wasn't a question but it begged all the same.

_Please forgive me._


	30. Caught In the Way That It Was

**A/N: **_Thanks to **Jen** (**wants2beawriter**) and **Lizzie **(**Paceismyhero**) for the betaing and for making sure Puck sounded like Puck. That was especially hard this time for some reason. The chapter title is taken from my writing inspiration during this part, **Inward Tide** by **Green River Ordinance. **I guess I should thank Lizzie for that, too. **Also, huge thanks to everyone who has stuck with me this far.** The last part is getting a little bumpy, but the end is coming and I hope (think) it will be worth your patience. Thanks guys - let me know what you think! _

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Thirty: Caught in the Way That it Was (It's All the Same)<strong>

"Puckerman!" The guy who answered the door yelled towards the back of the building-at-large. "Hot visitor!"

_No wonder he fit in here_, Rachel thought to herself.

The guy was significantly shorter than Finn, or even Puck for that matter, but still had the typical, stocky build of a firefighter. He made Rachel feel like a little kid, even when his gaze turned much more predatory than she would've preferred.

"So…how d'you know Puck?" He asked, hanging easily from the door as they waited. She honestly understood the policy against letting unknown persons into the station; this guy hadn't been there the day she'd locked herself out of her dads' house and had to come to Puck for help. _But was there a policy that demanded lechery? _

"High school," she said simply. She was too tired to come up with anything more creative. She'd barely slept all night, then had spent most of the morning with her frenzied packing in a poor attempt to distract herself until it was late enough she could make house calls to rectify everything from the previous day. She folded her arms tightly against herself and looked down, intentionally avoiding the man's gaze by watching the shadow of her foot move against cement.

"Maybe you should branch out," he said simply.

"Or maybe you should quit harassin' her, Dooley," Puck said, appearing next to the guy. "We're pretty sure she's taken."

"Pretty sure?" The guy said, stumbling back when Puck gave him a healthy push to the chest. There was no true acid in his voice and she was fairly certain this conversation had played out before. "How many of 'em you got, anyway? First the blonde and now this one…"

"Shut your fuckin' mouth and walk away," Puck said simply. "She's with a friend of mine." He turned to face her before he directed his next words her way. "Sorta."

She frowned and kept her arms folded. Her gaze was trained on the ground even after she felt his eyes on her. She moved instinctively when he stepped out of the firehouse, closing the door behind them. She figured it was for privacy.

"So, half-pint, what brings you by?" He asked. She saw a little motion, heard a rustle of clothing and she knew he'd folded his arms. Was he trying to _intimidate_ her? Was that still the way he worked? "I'm not hookin' up with you again. I learned that lesson a _long_ time ago."

She set her jaw and looked up at him. He just…he pissed her off—in general and sometimes just by existing. And she hated that he knew it (mostly because he didn't care). She hadn't forgotten, but she kind of hoped _he_ had. They had been civil for the few weeks she was in town, and she had wanted it to remain that way, especially given the tension that now existed between her and Finn. "I don't want to hook up with you. I just stopped by to thank you."

Her apology seemed to throw him off a bit and she was grateful to have the upper hand in the conversation, however temporary it was.

"_Thank_ me?" His gaze whipped over his shoulder, like maybe the door could confirm she'd said those words and she smirked in amusement. "For what?"

She blew out a shaky breath. She had managed to stay mostly composed since she had stopped crying the night before; emphasis on _mostly_ and there was something soft in the cool stance Puck had taken that was threatening to break her down. "For not…I know you know what Finn was talking about last night when he…" she trailed off and blew out a breath, determined _not_ to be the girl who couldn't even say his name this time. "…when he admitted we had sex before I left for Los Angeles."

Puck gave a curt little nod. "Ah. Still want your dads to think the sun shines out your ass, huh? That you're not a low-life like the rest of us?"

"They're well aware of my mistakes," she said slowly. "I just don't necessarily want them to think…well…"

He shook his head. "Well, fucking Finn before you left doesn't make you a _cheater_. It makes _him_ a cheater. Jesus, have you had _any_ real relationships since you left? There's like a manual that defines what cheating actually is."

"A _manual_?" She asked doubtfully. "I don't…"

"Well, I'm pretty sure the handbook also covers turning down a proposal and…" he scoffed and shook his head. "What the fuck was_ that_ mistake about?"

Her eyebrows shot up. "My…my telling Finn I can't marry him?"

"Yeah. Shit, B. He's crazy about you and you'd have be fucking deaf, dumb, and blind not to know that. And I know you ain't any of the three."

"It isn't that _simple_," she burst out. She squeezed her eyes closed and she could feel the tears she'd been fighting start to leak out the sides. She put her hand over her eyes. "I wasn't…I'm not trying to _break up _with him."

"Well Princess, that's kinda his take on it," Noah said. He leaned back against the metal doorframe. "He's been yakking my ear off about it, actually. It's just ain't _right_."

"What did you say?"

"Fuck if I know what to say!" He growled. "Why in the hell'd you turn him down? 'Cause he said something about promises not to leave or something and… well… he was a waste of space for a long time after you left before. Are you just…are you tryin' to kill him or something?"

She shook her head. "No!" She let out a shaky breath. Her next stop was to try explaining to herself in Finn (since he wouldn't answer the phone). "I just…I…I don't know how much you know about when I moved to Los Angeles. I'm not sure what he told you."

He shook his head. "Nothin' much. The guy doesn't get chatty unless he's drunk and even then, it's just not…he just kind of rambles. Tangents and shit you can hardly figure out."

"We made a lot of promises," she said simply, swiping a finger over her nose as she sniffled a little. "And between the two of us, we managed to break every single one. He was supposed to come find me in New York after graduation. I was supposed to just be waiting there for him. Instead, we stopped speaking entirely around Thanksgiving of your senior year—"

"—I _knew_ that much 'cause you quit talkin' to me, too —" he cut in.

"I cut essentially all ties to home at that point. I ended up staying out in Los Angeles longer than I expected and I _hated_ it out there. I mean, there was some touring but I was based in California and I was miserable and…and Finn kept telling me how you guys were preparing for Sectionals and how it wasn't the same and how everyone missed me and…I didn't believe him on the 'everyone' parts, exactly, but still. It was just too hard. I wanted to come running back. So I stopped _looking_ back, but I continued to hope he'd meet me in New York."

"He never even tried, so far as I know."

She sighed. There were things you kept to yourself in a relationship—she knew that. The secrets under her tongue had burned the worst while she was in Los Angeles, had driven her to make out with Kurt's ex-boyfriend and that contact had nearly forced her to sever ties with Kurt as well…all of it had been complicated and messy and painful. But she knew she'd already managed to steal most of Finn's pride anyway, so she had nothing to lose.

"He did. He didn't get into school and he couldn't make the money work, so he stayed home and went to Ohio State."

Noah's eyebrows went up. "Finn applied to schools in New York?"

"Yes, and I don't believe he told _anyone_. Not even his family. I'm _still_ not sure who exactly knows because most of it only matters in terms of our relationship. The bottom line, here and now, is this: I don't want him to choose a location based on _me_. I feel terrible he was stuck in such an unhappy relationship with Quinn but it's through no fault of my own. I refuse to feel terrible about any other part of his life now, when the door is wide open for him to finally be his _own_ person. If we get married…there's just no…"

"You're still thinkin' there's something better than_ you_ out there for him?"

"I know there is."

"Then what is it? Where is it? How long do you think he's gonna wait? 'Cause he's pretty convinced you're _everything_. _He_ thinks the sun shines out your ass like you want your dads to; and you're throwin' it away."

"I'm not breaking up with him," she protested quietly.

"You just don't want to _marry_ him." His tone was derisive and she didn't care for it _at all_.

"I'm not in a position to marry anyone," she answered, digging the top of her flip-flop into the seam on the porch. "I'm contractually obligated to be in Los Angeles by Wednesday, and in London by the following Monday. I don't know how _long_ any of that is going to last. Finn…he needs _a home_. He needs consistency and day-in/day-out. I suspect the bland nature of it all is why _you_ haven't settled down."

He snorted and shook his head. "I haven't settled down 'cause the person I wanted was otherwise _engaged_."

She shot him a withering glare. "So you told me it was 'fucked up' that I was here to break up Finn and Quinn…but you've been waiting for the exact same thing?"

"I never said it was Q," he said. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other but continued leaning on the doorframe. "'sides, if you came back here just to break them up, that _is_ fucked and you know it."

She shook her head. "I didn't come back for anything other than to see my fathers. Kurt happened to be coming back to town for Mother's Day and he's the one that even took me to Columbus in the first place."

"So Finn laid eyes on you and then dumped the girl he was livin' with?"

Rachel sighed. "This is all really none of your business," she said. "I just came by to thank you for your discretion and to tell you goodbye." She turned to walk back toward her dads' house so she could get her car for the 15-minute trip to the Hummel's.

"Fair enough, just… y'know, you only get so many chances to fuck something up before it's just _too _fucked up."

Her eyebrows knit together as she looked at him somewhat doubtfully. "My life would truly not be the same without the insights of Noah Puckerman."

He pushed away from the doorframe and smirked at her. "Yeah, well, my life wouldn't be the same without the Berry tornado blowin' through every now and again. Don't stay away so long this time."

She just smiled, but didn't make any promises; she'd kind of learned about that. She wasn't making the same mistakes this time around.

* * *

><p>"You could at least turn your phone off so it would stop ringing," Kurt said simply as he breezed into Finn's room. Finn had only been in there for about twelve hours, but the blinds were closed and the room was already stuffy. Kurt wrinkled his nose a little and then flipped on the light. "And you could start acting as though you're a grown man instead of regressing to high school."<p>

Finn groaned and turned over in his bed, lying on his back. "I see the warm milk in your hand. How d'you explain that if we're being grown-ups?"

"Tradition," Kurt said with a shrug. "I know you have to get home eventually since you have to work tomorrow so I'm starting earlier than our previously allotted time."

"Aren't you sharing airport transportation?" Finn muttered. "And I thought your flight left fucking early."

Kurt scoffed and shook his head. "It does. I'm not trying to speak to you about that…_yet_."

Finn flopped his arms up and over the blanket, slapping the blue microfiber away from his upper body. He looked over at Kurt and let out a weary sigh. "Just _why_ am I so stupid about her?"

"I don't know," Kurt answered quietly. "How could you think it was a good idea to propose marriage in front of her only known family members and her friends?"

He slapped a hand over his face. "I _didn't_, okay? I mean…I wanted us to talk about it but…"

"_Why_ are you so anxious to marry her anyway?" Kurt asked. "You two have a lot of history to work through and she's leaving for an undetermined period of time."

Finn blew out a long breath and he sat up, finally accepting the warm milk from his brother. "I just…" he shrugged as he sipped.

"You can't tell me you hadn't thought about it and it just slipped out of your mouth. You've exhibited super-human control around that girl previously." He tipped his head. "Or apparently _not_."

"Shut up, dude," Finn said. He flattened his palm out in his lap and set the bottom of the tall glass down on his hand. "There's a _reason_ I didn't tell anyone about all that."

"Well, Rachel told me about it so that means I get to have an opinion where you're concerned, too."

"It does _not_."

"I think you really love her. And your life falls apart when she leaves and you're trying to minimize that fallout but…Finn, you have to see she's right. Getting married isn't going to solve anything. You have other things you need to do first."

Finn rolled his eyes. "First mom and now _you_?" He took another small sip and man, he'd fallen out of the habit of drinking warm milk and it was _not_ like riding a bicycle. He tried not to wince. "Just because I broke up with Quinn doesn't mean I have, like, a new lease on life or something. I wasn't dead before. And I don't wanna take time on my own. I did that already—it was called _college_."

"No, that was called pining."

"No," he protested sharply. "You make me sound so lame. Like…I still went out with girls. I still got shit-faced and slept around and…and you know, none of it made me feel good. None of it made me feel…"

"Yes, because you obviously feel so pleasant right now."

Finn sighed. "Did she…I mean… did we _break up_?" He asked quietly. "I just don't get it, y'know?"

"I think your phone ringing off the hook probably says otherwise because I would guess most of it was her calling," Kurt said pointedly.

"Yeah, most of it," he admitted.

"Well at some point you have to face it all, even if the conversation is less than comfortable. That's the suckiest component of adulthood I've found. Plus, she's leaving sooner rather than later so I do believe 'some point' is going to come a lot faster than you might like."

"Aren't you dating anyone yet? It would kinda take the parental focus off me, which would be kind of nice. I'm pretty sure my damn phone won't _stop_ ringing once mom gets a hold of certain information."

Kurt scoffed but Finn didn't miss the color that appeared on his brother's cheeks. "Well, if I _were_ hypothetically dating someone, it wouldn't be serious enough for me to bring him home anyway."

"Are you serious?" Finn asked. "Let's just…we should talk about that 'cause I don't want to talk about Rachel anymore."

"Okay, but you _can't_ tell her because I haven't told her yet either…"

Finn even managed a slight smile because Kurt was _so easy_. And all he really had to do was hit the basics, nod at the right times, and he was good. He didn't have to talk about his own feelings or problems. So he listened to Kurt go on and on about Sam and how Sam's sister Stacy was coming to check out colleges and …

…wait. Blonde guy, amazing lips (thanks for the detail, Kurt), sister named Stacy who was about ten years younger…

"Sam… _Evans_?" Finn asked.

Kurt dropped his head even more. "You _cannot _tell anyone. He's not ready for them to know. After he moved at the beginning of senior year, I guess…well, he ended up going to college in Chicago and he came out sometime then."

"Wow…" Finn said, trying not to sputter milk everywhere. "And I _definitely _won't tell Quinn 'cause…I just…"

"Do you still _talk_ to Quinn?" Kurt asked doubtfully.

"Well…no, but…I mean if I _did_…if I _do…_"

There was a soft knock at the door that startled Finn so bad he tipped the glass of milk toward himself a little. He was looking down and saying something about fucking a duck as Kurt turned toward the door to see Rachel cautiously peeking around the corner.

Kurt's eyes widened and he jumped up and then jerked the glass out of Finn's hand entirely. "I'll just…um…hi, Rachel." He scrambled out of the room, stopping only to press a kiss to her forehead as she stared at Finn and barely acknowledged Kurt's greeting at all.

"We need to talk," she said to Finn slowly. She tried _really _hard not to smirk at him as he folded the hem of his t-shirt to try and stop the flow of milk down his abdomen. "… and I think you might just need to take that off for the sake of expediency."

He looked up. "What do those two things have to do with each other?"

She closed the door and leaned back against it; playing with the gold door handle and making it click in time with her nerves. "Nothing," she admitted quietly. She ducked her head and swallowed hard to bury the wave of nausea threatening to overcome her.

He sighed, admitted defeat (at least, somewhat) and pulled the Bexley Lions shirt over his head. He tossed it aside and then pulled the blanket back up over his chest in a small fit of self-consciousness he hadn't experienced in a long time.

"What're you doing here, Rach?" He choked out.

"We need to talk," she repeated. "I mean, I'm sure I could've reasoned from you not taking my calls that you might not need to talk, but _I _do. So I'm going to say my peace and if you still don't want to talk then…then I guess I'll just go."

"Just like last time, huh?" He heard her sharp intake of breath and looked up.

"That's what I'm trying to avoid." She could feel her voice wavering. She had only lost herself for about an hour the previous night; she had held it together as her dads explained every flaw in her logic, she had held it together as she spoke with her equity rep about her final flight arrangements and exactly what her contract said she needed to do on arrival tomorrow evening. She had even mostly held it together in front of Puck. She was tired of holding it together. She already knew she was going to fall apart; it _was_ like last time in that respect, but at least this time she probably wouldn't be alone when she did it.

"Funny way of showing it," he mumbled.

The bitterness in his voice broke her. "_No._ You haven't bothered to listen to the _reasons_. I'm not dumping you and leaving you behind, Finn. I just can't marry you right now because I _can't_, not because I don't _want to_. I would love nothing more than for you to come with me, but I don't even really know where I'm going in a permanent sense."

"Does anyone, really?" He asked, his head shooting up. She knew his face was a reflection of her own. She was crying tears through red-rimmed eyes just as he had been. He had dark shadows under his eyes that proved he hadn't slept well.

"You asked me then…" she said, her voice raspy. She knew talking now was quite likely going to damage her voice a little. She didn't care. Her throat was dry, but she pressed forward. "You asked me then to wait for you. I'm asking the same thing. Please? I'm not trying to break up with you. That's honestly the _last_ thing I want."

"Then what _do_ you want? I've given you a long time, Rach. You finally came back to me. I promised I would go to you. What…I mean, if you don't want me to do that then…."

"I want you," she said simply. "I _do_. I just…there's just not much more I can say at the moment. You just… you have things to figure out and I have things to figure out and…" She released the doorknob finally (and thank God, because the noise was making his head hurt even worse than it already did), but then she wrapped her arms around herself and it made him _hurt_.

He sighed. At least she wasn't breaking up with him; and he could admit he didn't fully get what she was doing, but he was glad she wasn't breaking up with him. It hadn't really gone down the way he hoped and it wouldn't have been his life if it didn't backfire _somehow_ anyway.

"C'mere," he said, his voice rough but certain.

"Are you…are you sure?" she asked, sounding the total opposite. He just nodded again and circled his hand impatiently, motioning for her to come over. She walked slowly, slipped her feet out of her flip flops, and then settled into the covers with him.

He pulled her next to her bare chest. "I'm sorry if I embarrassed you. I kinda embarrassed myself."

She sighed and he felt her eyelashes brush against his skin when she closed her eyes. "It's okay, just… for future reference?"

"Yeah?"

"You need to know that I'd _really_ prefer to become betrothed to you in private. And preferably wearing minimal clothing."

He snorted and accidentally tightened his grip on her as he laughed. "You're telling me you want me to propose to you _naked_?"

She waited for him to settle back under the covers with her. "That's exactly what I'm saying; because then it will _not_ be a tale passed down for generations. It will stay just between us…where it should be."

"Fair enough," he said. "Even if I think you're kinda weird…" he let out a sigh. He felt safe saying it now because she was all wrapped up with him in his bed and his heart didn't hurt quite the same way. "I…it…I was afraid you were going to break up with me."

"I told you once that I never would," she said simply. "And I never have. I don't really plan on starting now."

"That's good," he breathed. He _really_ wished he could say the same. Instead, he feared it was just another broken thing between them. "I don't plan on doing it _again_."

"That's good," she echoed. Her voice was low and he felt her shift a little to cling to him. He didn't mind. "Do you have time to lay here for a little while before you have to get back to Columbus?"

He let his fingertips dance through her hair and held her close. "Yeah….we got time, babe."

Just like he'd felt her blink before, he felt her smile as she pushed her head against his chest. He _knew_ he didn't want to leave her, and he didn't want _her_ to leave _him_.

But right then…they had all the time in the world.


	31. You'll Never Replace Me

**A/N:** Thanks to everyone for the help and encouragement with this. Jen for helping me smooth it out and Leo for helping me with the concept and figuring out what I wanted to really say. I'm starting to tie it all up, so the chapter title is from the song that was the main inspiration for the story; in case anyone needs the reminder, it's the amazing **Replace Me **by **Andrew Belle.** Also, just as important is the continued encouragement and feedback on this story. Everyone who has stuck with me this far, begged for updates, and encouraged me not to forget this story...thank you! It really has kept me going.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Glee or the song.

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><p><strong>Chapter Thirty One: You'll Never Replace Me<strong>

Rachel flipped her phone up in her hand, carefully checking for messages again. She felt Kurt's glance at her and heard his annoyed, huffy little breath before he spoke. She sighed and waited for it.

"Dearest, you _know_ he's got the final staff meeting of the year. Didn't he detail for you what that involves?"

Rachel rolled her eyes a little and kept looking forward. She and Finn had talked about it a little, but they'd had _better_ things to do before peeled himself away from her around eight o'clock the night before so he could return home. Or in Kurt's words, Finn had _peeled himself off of her_. Either description was technically accurate, although she supposed she should be grateful for small favors because Kurt could've been far more graphic.

Kurt kept going, releasing the steering wheel long enough to emphasize his point with a vague hand gesture. "Well, he _did_ detail it for _me_. It involves him going to work extremely early, which I'm sure was a chore by the time the two of you actually hung up. I'm dead certain the 'I'm home safely' conversation turned into something more. After that, he then has to sit through their drone of a principal going through the final revisions for what they need to do to vacate their classrooms before the building is painted this summer, the final itinerary for the school year, _and_ peer evaluations."

She looked over at Kurt with a scowl. "So?"

"So he's not going to be able to call you until you call when you land safely; I'm positive that's your intent and the hell with anyone else who cares for your well-being." He shot her a dirty look (albeit, a brief one) before he turned to look at the road again.

"Actually…" she breathed, dragging the word out long enough she could drop her phone in the purse at her feet. "…I'm not going to be calling him because he has band rehearsal. I have a lunch meeting for the show, so I won't have time to chat anyway."

Kurt nods. "Well, you can call me. I'm just drafting at home once I get settled. And you _should_ call me."

"Okay, I'll call," she insisted. She slumped into the seat a little. "I know I haven't been available much lately and for that, I'm truly sorry. You and I got into a routine there when I was doing the show and…and well, I think you've paid the price most of all while I'm floundering these last few weeks. How is life, Kurt?"

He couldn't really argue the sincerity in her voice. He'd long since stopped accusing her of using her profession to _pretend_ to care. He knew she cared. If there was one thing she did right consistently, it was care about the people close to her.

The staying in touch? That was the tough part.

He cleared his throat and fought the urge to reach for his coffee. It was a rare indulgence, but given they had left Lima around 4:30 so they could each board planes that departed before seven, it was a _necessity_ today. Even Rachel was drinking some. He gave up fighting and took a long pull from the paper cup.

"Well, aside from the fact I'll have to schedule an extra meeting with my trainer to work off _this_ garbage," he started, gesturing to the cup before he continued on. "I suppose things are going pretty well."

"Be more specific. We won't be to the airport for another twenty minutes," she said simply. She followed his lead and picked up her cup to take a dainty sip, swiping her tongue across her lips when a drop leaked out.

"Well, work is getting interesting because we're starting on the fall lines." He darts a glance over to Rachel. "And I _do _have some news on that front you'll be interested in since you're actually going to London."

She scowls. "You thought I wouldn't?"

He sighs. "I wasn't sure. Once you and Finn decided to pick things back up, I wasn't sure."

"I have a contract," she spit out, folding her arms tightly against her chest. "I have not accomplished what I set out to do."

"Pouts the girl with a Tony nom," Kurt said, amusement thick in his voice.

"Do you think Finn was expecting that, too?" Her question would've sounded abrupt to anyone else, but he knew exactly what she meant, what had gotten her there, and he knew enough to be vaguely annoyed with the subject change.

He shot her a look that plainly said he was happier talking about himself than going over her relationship—_again—_in agonizing detail. "For you to jettison your contract and stay here? No, I don't."

She just nodded. "Okay, well continue. Your news?"

"Well, you've inspired me."

The sideways glance out the corner of her eye was suspicious. Once upon a time, she would've flailed a little on just those words being said to her by anyone. Where now it was Kurt, and just _now_ in her life, she was more ambivalent about the statement.

"I've been working with the team doing the women's line and…and they possibly want to send us to London in September for Fashion Week."

"What?" She gasped out. "Kurt, that's _fantastic_!"

"I wasn't happy you were going to miss the show in New York with me but it seems I will be able to make it up to you _and_ improve your wardrobe at the same time."

Her smile was bright even as she ignored the bite in the last part of his statement. She was used to dismissing his opinion on her wardrobe, even if her personal style had changed drastically. She was pretty sure he spoke out of habit mostly anyway.

"I'm sure I will be in dire need of your company by then," she said sweetly.

"Likewise," he said. He took her hand and pressed the back of it to his mouth. "And there might be some other news I have for you."

She raised her eyebrows and watched him without saying a word (a miracle).

"I might be dating someone."

She gasped. "Really? What's his name? What's he like?"

She was bouncing in the chair and he had to remember to tread lightly because he didn't want to give her that many details yet.

"Well, it's early yet," he glossed. "And he's not all the way _out_ yet."

She pulled her hand out of his suddenly and looked at him with open concern. "Kurt. It's been difficult on you to be that gateway relationship in the past. Why would you do it again?"

"It's not like that. His family is fully accepting and he's dated other guys," he said, finishing with a little sigh. "And I could make the same argument about you and Finn, but I haven't. So please support me as well."

They were reaching the highway exit for the airport and she looked at him very seriously. "At the end of the day, I will always be your staunchest supporter and you know that. I suspect you're the same about Finn and me."

He took the exit ramp and fully stopped the car before he looked over at her in honest appraisal. She knew he wasn't dragging it out but that he was trying to drive safely. "For the record, I'm maybe a little bit jealous of you and Finn because I used to think I had that kind of a person in my life—a person I could just return to and all the mistakes of the past would be forgiven. That person is…well, for me he's just _gone_." He let out a long breath. "But this new thing definitely feels like the start of something good and I just…I hope I've let go of the past enough to _really_ embrace this possibility."

This time, she took his hand in hers. She didn't kiss him but looked at him with a small smile. He had to keep driving his rental car before she responded, so he wasn't watching as she spoke. "Who was your Finn?"

"Well, I used to think it was Blaine," he answered candidly.

_Kurt has never asked me if I know how to get in touch with Blaine. Other than sharing memories here and there, Kurt has never even mentioned Blaine to me._

Her own words came back to haunt her a little; she wondered if maybe Finn had been right. She bit her lip a little as she tried to decide – her way or Finn's way? Did she tell Kurt? She didn't do well with shades of grey; she'd always been more of a black-and-white sort of girl.

"But…I don't know. I mean, I don't even have his phone number. I don't know where he lives or what he does or if he wants to know about what I'm doing. My father is in the same place, so he could theoretically find a way to contact me if he were interested."

Well, and that was the other thing. _Was Blaine interested?_

She made a decision and she sighed. "That's certainly true."

"Good _night_ people are stupid," he muttered under his breath as a car cut him off, clearly in a hurry to get to the airport. She smiled while he swerved slightly to avoid ramming into the car. Even with road rage, Kurt was so oddly composed. She wished she were that person.

"I don't think I properly thanked you for coming out this weekend. I know you and Finn use every possible excuse to get together or to do the 'family' thing, but I also know you were mainly supporting me with this party for my dad and just…thanks so much, Kurt. I really do appreciate your friendship."

He was pulling up to the curb of the car rental section of the airport and he smirked at her. "Feeling a little maudlin today?"

She rolled her eyes and moved to get out of the car. "No more than normal." She stooped down to get her purse off the floor of the front seat and her coffee from the cupholder by the gear shift. "I just…" she sighed. He popped the trunk and moved around to grab their luggage. She only had one small bag, as her dads were shipping the rest to London, but he refused to let her carry it regardless of its size.

(It was a far cry from when they had talked about being in New York together and deferring all heavy lifting to Finn—not as though that had ever actually happened and really, a lot of other things had changed in the intervening decade as well.)

She stayed put, standing on the curb, and fiddling with her purse. "Can I tell you something no one else knows?"

He snapped the trunk closed before he moved to stand beside her and dropped both their bags at her side. "You're not pregnant, are you?"

Her face twisted a little. "I really hope not." She shuddered visibly. "Thanks for that thought."

"Well…it's what I do."

She dropped her head and shook it a little so he didn't see her smile because he definitely didn't need the encouragement. "No. I…I'm not sure how long I'm going to stay in London now," she confessed.

"Since _when_?"

"Since late last night when my dad came in and told me that my daddy is refusing heart surgery he _needs_. They told him without it, it'll be a matter of time until he has a major heart attack." She looked down and gasped. "He _snuck_ into my room and woke me up to tell me about it."

Kurt's look was one-hundred percent sympathetic. He knew the ropes of a parent with a cardiac issue all too well. "Is one cup of coffee going to be enough? I'm guessing you didn't sleep much afterward."

"I don't know how much I'll truly be sleeping until I get that phone call," she admitted. She sighed and looked up at him with a shrug. "I just…I'm really only under contract long enough to get the show opened and for a two-week run."

"_What_?"

"No one else knows that either, Kurt," she said—more as a warning. By _no one else_ she meant Finn. He wasn't supposed to tell Finn.

"Rachel…"

"Stop. He just…he's still making a lot of decisions about the future. To some degree, he's in the position where his future is setting itself up, but I don't want him to decide anything based on me. If he thinks I'm coming back, he might take it as an excuse to stay here and I know that's not what he wants."

"At some point, my dear, you have to stop divining what other people want. You can't _tell_ them what they want. You have to give them all the facts and ask them."

She frowned and took a step away from him. "Why…are you _mad_ at me?"

He sighed. "No more than anyone else," he said, tugging her next to him as the Thrifty rep approached them (_finally_). "But you left for a really long time and it was totally selfish. No one really blamed you for it, but…but it feels kind of like you're back now. Quit taking yourself away from us. Believe it or not—we love you."

"I've always had a hard time believing that," she admitted.

"I know you have. But…but you don't stick around long enough to let anyone prove it. You need to tell Finn about your dad. Don't push him away. If he's going to factor you into his decisions, he's going to do it regardless of withholding information and you kind of owe him _all _the facts."

Kurt turned to deal with returning his rental car, but he never moved his arm away from her and she buried her face in his chest. He wore Fahrenheit religiously; it was to the point she wondered if the smell was just soaked into his skin because she couldn't pass a honeysuckle bush without thinking of him and the way he smelled. It was sweeter than Finn, maybe a little more...well, Finn had always had a way of smelling like freshly-cut grass in a gentle sort of way. She'd wondered if all the time on a football field or a baseball field had soaked into his skin the same way Kurt's cologne seemed to do to the other boy. Either way, it was comforting and familiar and she breathed deep and accepted the comfort as she clung to him a little bit.

She had missed her friend and he had obviously missed her, too. Just as she was leaving again, she realized how good it was to be home. She wondered and hoped, for the first time ever in her life, if she would remember this feeling and keep it close to her this time. She had always questioned if she belonged in Lima at all, but now she knew a simple truth: it wasn't that the geographical location was where she belonged. Instead, there were _people_ she belonged to—she would never be able to replace them with accolades or awards or workload. They weren't all at home now, but it took coming back to realize the truth: she really wasn't alone and she hadn't ever been making decisions for just herself. She wasn't as independent as she liked to claim. She _needed_ them and she knew now she would do whatever it took to be with them.

The biggest question now was what it would take and how _long_ it would take her to rearrange her life accordingly. All she knew was the last few weeks in Ohio hadn't been that bad. All she wanted to know was when she could return to them—and why all of a sudden it felt like returning _to_ something rather than walking back into a previously empty place.

She wasn't even gone yet, but all she wanted was to come home again—to something, to some_one_. She wanted a home and a family…and she almost wanted it even more than some pretty award (or several pretty awards, as had been her goal for as long as she could remember). And for the first time ever—even though she'd only left Lima twice, really—she knew she would be back for it.


	32. The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly

_**A/N: **So... I hardly know what to do with myself. There is this and then just one more chapter and that's it for this story. It's so long and I know the story is winding down, but it's weird. Oh well - guess I'll just start on the sequel. That is, if there's interest in one. Thanks to **Jen **(**wants2beawriter**) for the world's quickest beta return on this and helping me clarify the rambling. She's awesome, in case y'all don't know. The song has been used/mentioned before but I included all the lyrics this time, so I'll reinclude that it's **Make It Without You **by **Andrew Belle**. No harm or infringement is intended with the way I twisted it to suit my own purposes._

_That said, **reviews = love**._

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><p><strong>Chapter Thirty-Two: The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly<strong>

One thing he hated more than the fact she was gone was the fact that he didn't have time to _miss_ her. He was so busy between the end of school and recording the demo that Rachel's absence was more like a chronic and empty ache in the bottom of his stomach. He kind of got used to it; he always knew it was there but it didn't stop the days, and finally, the weeks from passing.

It had been nearly two weeks since she left and he'd only talked to her for about two hours _total._ It fucking sucked.

He blew out a sigh and hiked the messenger bag up a little higher on his shoulder. It was almost seven and he was just barely leaving the school and headed straight to another recording session. They'd basically laid down all the tracks for the three-song demo over the course of the previous weekend (Memorial Day). Mixing was turning out to be the biggest pain in the ass ever; who knew Brandon was actually a fucking perfectionist?

Instead of an empty ache, the pain suddenly became a stab. He wished there were _another_ perfectionist around to help them. He knew she would somehow manage to make it perfect. And fuck, it had been almost a full day since he heard her voice. He palmed his phone out of his pants pocket as he approached his car and used his free hand to activate speed dial (he tried to make her his #1 but the stupid phone company thought that should always be voicemail; like that was more important or something—so she was #5. At least it had been his football number so it had some other significance) while he unlocked the car and walked. He was surprised he made it to the car in one piece, so distracted and so overloaded between the key fob, the bag slipping off his shoulder, and y'know, his two left feet and the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.

It was the weirdest thing. Like a rip-cord almost. He could go from being normalish to thinking about her and missing her a little more and then as soon as he thought of her, he was calling. He felt sickest usually while the phone was ringing.

He tossed the bag inside his car, using the stooping to cover the fact that he felt a little sick, and then stood up and waited for her to answer. It was nearly midnight there; he probably should've thought of that before he called. Hopefully she would be asleep and he didn't want to interrupt that.

"Hey," she said, her voice quiet but not sleepy. He frowned.

"Hey," he breathed. The stabbing pain started to scatter and go away. "Why are you still up?"

"Why are you calling me if you're going to worry about why I'm still up?" She teased back lightly, but her voice was heavy. He hated it.

One thing had come through loud and clear in their conversations: Rachel was actually _homesick_. She didn't love it in London. The guy who had requested she collaborate was a demanding asshole (which was saying _a lot_ coming from Rachel 'cause those had been her exact words and she wasn't exactly chill about work stuff), her dad was sick and for some reason refusing to get better, and she hadn't spoken to Kurt or Cooper in the entire time she'd been in London because neither guy had time to talk—not that she did either.

"I'm calling you 'cause I wanted to hear your voice," he said. He hung on the open driver's side door of the car a little. He could picture her, lying in the bed he hadn't seen, biting her lip as she tried to figure out what to say.

"I'm glad you did," she said. There was no force, but still sweetness at least. He could breathe again. "How was your day?"

And this is what they did when they talked. They tried to pick up right where they left off, to be involved in even the most insignificant details of their days.

He got in the car because felt like he could move again now that she'd answered and he really had to get to the studio. They had some stuff to re-record that Brandon had texted him about earlier so, in spite of his wanting to go home and go to bed early enough that he deserved to be mocked for it, he would be probably doing that all night instead.

"It was okay. I'm just leaving the school if that gives you an idea."

"I'm sorry. It's kind of late, isn't it?"

"Yes. Apparently there are more things hiding in that cabinet under the window than I remembered. And I haven't had to clean it out because I've just kept the same classroom the whole time I've been here. Even in the summer, some of it stayed, y'know? Taking everything is way different." He smiled easily, though. She was half the reason he was taking everything and not going back. If he was being honest, she was the whole reason because her encouragement was the best thing in his life at the moment. (Okay, maybe not the _best_ thing but definitely in the top five.) "How was your day?"

"More of the same," she said. Her voice was more like its normal sing-song quality now but she still sounded tired. "But I'm surviving."

He sighed. "Well, I guess that's all you can do."

"How's the mixing process?"

"It sucks balls," he said candidly. He was at a stoplight so it wasn't a big deal when his eyes closed with embarrassment. It was so easy to be himself around her that sometimes he forgot he _shouldn't_ be himself if that was the kinda shit his 'self' said. "I mean…"

"That's a pretty apt way to explain it; I agree. And I'm going off memories. But I can at least provide some comfort and say you're in the home stretch."

He sighed in a weird sort of parallel with the accelerator on the car. "Maybe. I don't know. Brandon has me going in tonight to redo a couple things."

"_Again_?" She said. He heard a rustling noise and imagined she was shifting around on the bed he'd once again never seen. "He's giving my producer a run for world's largest pain in the ass."

His inner high-school-self fought the urge to laugh at her casual swearing. "Agreed. Although, for some reason, I tolerate it when Brandon does it. I kinda just want to kick your producer in the nuts."

"Another reason you probably shouldn't ever meet him face-to-face," she said. She sounded amused and he smiled a little. It was always a good day when her voice sounded kind of happy. It would be even better if he could get her to laugh.

"Well if that meant I was face-to-face with you, it wouldn't be all bad," he said easily. He heard her sharp inhale and wondered what she was thinking.

"I wish," was all she whispered back.

He was pulling into recording studio lot already; the small three-level building was tucked back into a residential area not too far from the school. "Well…I'm at the studio. So let's do this. Tell me…like…three things about your day." His voice perked up a little. "Like—the good, the bad, and the ugly."

She gave a small laugh. His day picked up a little. "It's charming when you apply your teaching background to _our_ communication."

"Tell me yours and I'll tell you mine."

Rachel sighed. "Okay. The good? Right now. The bad? When Matt accused me of trying to make Tangled a 'rock opera'. The ugly? My dads got into a fight and I had to try refereeing from across the pond." Long pause. "They've never put me in the middle that way before."

"Is it…I mean, is it more of the stuff with your dad's heart?" He asked. He didn't have time to get into it and he _really_ didn't want to make her talk about it; the stomachache came back again and it was the first time he'd had it _while_ he was talking to her.

"Yes. He's just…" she blew out a breath and it startled him as it rattled "He saw his own father go through all of this and, in the end, it did no good. They never salvaged that relationship anyway and…and I think this is his way of punishing himself."

Finn shook his head, irrationally angry _for_ her. "But it's not just himself he's hurting."

"No, it's not. And I wish I could just make him see that. I don't get how he _doesn't_ and it's so frustrating to try to make him."

"Because you're stubborn just like him," Finn said lowly. He twisted to reach behind him and grab the bag he needed for recording—his headphones, his drumsticks, and his notebook full of ideas. (He was starting to live out of his backseat, like his car was a suitcase, and he didn't really like it.) "You'll get through. You just have to keep trying. It's kinda like everything else, right?"

She was quiet for a minute, which he knew meant she was thinking. "Well…at a certain point you have to just let people go and live their lives, too."

He was already walking into the studio and he switched his phone to the other ear so he could balance the bag and still talk to her. His heart fell immediately when her words registered. He knew her well enough to know she never said something like that and it meant only one thing. Her words were always loaded, even if they weren't really in _code_. "But there's that other saying, too, right? Something about it coming back to you and that means it's yours forever?"

Her tone is amused. "Something like that."

"So no, you can't control what he's doing and I'm sure that sucks for you 'cause you…you take charge. It's the way you are. I just…I wish I had a way to take your mind off it because you _know_ he's going to come around eventually." He sighed once he hit the doors to the studio. He yanked it open, taking out his frustration on the building. It wasn't satisfying because the door was used to that kind of force and it didn't do anything but open patiently.

"Yes. Well…." She said. She sounded doubtful. He wanted to kiss the doubt out of her voice. He couldn't do it from here.

"I guess I should go do these samples or whatever they are," he said. Brandon was down the hall, talking to the mixing guy that was helping them. Finn turned away, so Brandon couldn't see he was still on the phone; they'd had words. Finn chalked it up to Brandon not understanding actually missing someone and Brandon being really super-uptight about the recording stuff. As funny as it was to see the dude come completely unhinged over nothing, he wasn't in the mood to deal with it right now. He felt like he might come unhinged, too.

"Wait," she said suddenly. He smiled; she was no more anxious to hang up than he was and in a messed-up way it felt good. "You didn't tell me your 'good, bad, and ugly' from today."

His smile broke wide open. "Oh yeah, I..uh…well, I think the good is talking to you—even though you're sad and I can't help. I—I…I feel better when I talk to you and I hope you feel better, too."

"Absolutely," she agreed. "And flattery will get you everywhere."

He looked over his shoulder quickly and made eye contact with Brandon; he wasn't crazy about the fact Brandon was now walking down the hall toward him. He knew it meant he would have to hang up soon.

"And the bad…well, I guess you could say it's bad that tomorrow is the last day of school. And the kids are jumping around like they're on crack. I'm exhausted."

She laughed out loud; she could still remember that feeling of being right at the end of the school year. She could also remember, at least during their sophomore year, how Finn had been the worst one of them all for that kind of energy. Things had definitely changed if he was tired of it.

"And the ugly..." he swallowed hard. He could _feel_ Brandon standing close to him in the hall and just waiting to speak. "Well, the ugly is that all I want to do is kiss you goodnight and I _can't_." The fingers on his free hand closed around themselves.

_It's just getting worse_, he thought. He'd never had that feeling like he wanted to touch her, to kiss her, to _taste_ her quite so bad. He had made it without her for a really long time before. But that was just it—it was _before_. Before she was his but _still_ not. All he wanted—_all_—was for her to be his. He just wanted to be with her.

He almost wanted to go back and tell her that the snap decision was the good part of his day.

But she was answering. "You can kiss me if you want to," she said. Her voice was low and sweet and maybe a little sad, but it was something else, too.

He smiled at the shared memory. "I want to," he agreed. That picnic on the stage felt like it had been so long ago. "Soon, I promise. S'only like a week until the awards thing." He heard a throat clear behind him.

"Waitin' on you, jackass," Brandon said. He wasn't talking loudly, but the combination of annoyance and teasing was basically undeniable.

"…but right now I have to go before Brandon starts throwing shit at my head or something."

(It was really too bad, because he usually used some sort of description for the Tony's that would totally set her off. He kinda wanted to get her all worked up about it again because she was funny about it all, and of _course_ he knew what they were called and of _course_ he was excited to go see her win.)

"Okay," she said. "Break a leg."

His smile was even wider, if that was possible. "I love you."

"I love you, too. Goodnight."

"'Night," he said. He wondered how she could do that; she'd _almost_ managed to change hanging up into the 'good' part of his day. He turned toward Brandon as he put his phone in his pants pocket. He was pretty sure the guy was going to rail on him either for being in a polo shirt and pants (he wasn't allowed to wear jeans at work) or for sounding like a girl on the phone.

Not that he cared about either at this point.

"Are you ready to do this shit? I think this is the last thing we need to do. If we can get it done, we're _done_."

That wasn't what Finn was expecting, and he almost choked on his surprise as they started walking together to Studio B. "Done? Like…"

"All the way, totally finished. Josh and Craig are waiting on your slow ass so we can give it a final listen through once your stuff is recorded and dropped in the two parts."

"This is fucking huge," Finn said.

"Yeah, well…I'm pretty sure my drummer is getting ready to move to London, so we need to get this shit recorded."

Finn stopped walking. "_What_?"

Brandon rolled his eyes and walked back toward Finn a little as he talked. "Look, I know this sounds more like Josh and whatever…like we spent _way_ too much fucking time together working on that running song and we're starting to sound like bros. Which is _weird_. But I'm not a total reject. I saw you on the phone and it's the first time in two weeks you've been anything but a totally miserable asshole. You're in love with her—for real. And there's really nothin' holding you here. You should just move there."

"But…but what about this contest? I mean…I'm still part of the band."

"Yeah," Brandon said. "Jesus. Haven't you ever heard of 'crossing that bridge when we come to it'? I'm not kicking you out of the band." They were in the door to the studio now and Brandon stopped abruptly and turned, Finn barely able to stop in time without plowing into him. As it was, Finn's bag slipped from his shoulder and crashed to the ground, landing on Brandon's foot. "Throw that thing anywhere, why dontcha? Look, the guy from the radio station has been in there while they're mixing everything. And he thinks the song you wrote and sang is the best one. He was fucking shocked you sang it through on basically the first try, too. He said we'd be retarded not to let you sing more and not to…like whatever. I'm not getting all crappy about it. You should move because it'll let you write more shit like that. We'll figure out the rest later."

"Okay," Finn said simply. He wasn't going to get any further into it, but as he stooped down to pick his bag up off the ground, he couldn't control his smile.

He didn't know why he hadn't thought of it sooner; moving to London _was_ a real option. Other than the band, there wasn't really anything keeping him in Columbus anymore after tomorrow (the last day of school). He didn't have to survive the whole time she was gone, he just had to survive the next couple of months until he knew how the band contest was going to go. Lots of guys in rock bands picked a city as a "home base" and even if they ended up on tour, he already knew who he wanted to come home _to._

The place was really just kind of wherever at this point. As long as he could be with her, he didn't care too much (especially 'cause it wasn't like she'd ever lived somewhere weird, like Antarctica and really penguins weren't his favorite but he loved the snow so that could offset it if she _did_ want to go to Antarctica or something.)

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><p>He left the studio that night just before midnight with the disc was in his hand. They each had a copy of it and it sounded great and it was <em>so <em>weird to think the last ten days had led to it. It was weird to think their hard work, at least on that part was over. But at the same time, the guy from the radio station who was handling the contest had promised them it would get _a lot_ busier once the other bands were finished with their recordings, too. This part was just the breather and they should keep practicing the other three songs they would add to make their demo an EP if they got further in the contest.

Finn was so tired he wasn't sure he could actually drive home, even though he had promised Josh he'd be right behind. He knew Josh was going to go straight home and play the recordings for Katie and he kind of wanted to see her reaction, too. He _really_ wanted to call Rachel and play it for her, even if she was such a music purist she would argue for a solid ten minutes (which was longer than the damn recording in the first place) about the distorted quality of hearing it through his cell phone that was in his car. He didn't doubt she could argue it even if he woke her now, at what was almost 5 in the morning her time.

He twisted his key in the ignition and then just turned up the music, whatever he'd left playing from his iPod this morning. He would just close his eyes for a minute before he made the ten-minute drive home. That's all. He just needed a little rest.

It was the album Rachel's song was on—the song that had started everything. And then, of course, the song about him. He didn't necessarily recognize the song that was playing, though; he'd been trying to listen through the whole album, knowing she'd worked on several songs. It was sort of his way of keeping her with him; even though she only sang in the background a little, at least he could surround himself with her words. It didn't necessarily hurt that the words were about him, either.

The song faded out and he closed his eyes as planned. Maybe he would fade out, too.

_This is the starting of my greatest fear. I'm all packed up and getting out of here. Then you call and tell me not to go, that I'm the one who put the rock and roll in your life._

He sat up straight in his seat and frowned. Her voice wasn't there, but he knew immediately this was one of her songs. He knew because, much like the other one, a memory rolled through him as soon as he heard the line. Because it was exactly what he'd said to her, in the middle of all his begging, the night before she left for Los Angeles. Word for word. It wasn't even _her_ words—it was _his_ words. And her words. They were mixed together.

_This is the starting of a brand new day. Never liked this town much anyway—I need the city like I need the rain. I know that somewhere, there's a northbound train. Oh I'll make it without you, make it without you; though my body's laying here, it's my mouth that must be lying now._

The breath he inhaled was shaky. Were those tears? Well…it couldn't be raining in the car. She was such a good writer he was only seconds into the song and he could already feel it. The only way he would've felt more is if he heard her voice. Because he already knew what this song was—it was her trying to convince herself that her leaving had been for the best. That the separation would be okay. That _she_ would be okay. He only knew because he'd heard her do it so many times since she went to London.

_This is the starting of my fall from grace; my self-esteem, oh it's seen better days. Though I'd never let this go to waste, I'll keep the memory of the life I trace back to home. Friends go out, but I've been stayin' in. I know I should, but that's the way it's been. Never cared much for the taste of gin; still don't now but it's been helping._

She was coping basically the same way as she had then, minus pushing him away. But she was still kind of keeping him at arm's length. He didn't know if it was on purpose or what. But he knew she was doing it. And maybe trying to convince herself she could make it without him. He sniffled a little bit, and yeah, he felt like a girl but he still didn't care. Because he knew—he knew he couldn't make it without her. He'd been only kind of alive before she came back a couple of months ago and now everything was different. The only thing that wasn't better was that she was still over there and he was over here. And for the first time ever, he knew he could change that. He felt like he had the power to do something about it.

_Oh I'll make it without in my life. I'll make it without you….Though my body's laying here, it's my mouth that must be lying now….It's my mouth that must be lying now._

He blinked and sniffled and tried not to be crying, but he was. There was no point in being sad about it; Brandon had given him the idea, but it was like the push was all he needed. It put everything together. He knew she was lying—not on purpose of course, but in the way she did where she convinced herself something was for the best. She had convinced herself it was for the best to chase her dreams and leave him behind even as she reminded _him_ he couldn't do the same thing. He just hadn't been listening before her song broke his heart.

He didn't want her to be sad or lonely. He didn't want her to be lying to herself. He wanted her to actually _be okay_. He wanted the same thing for himself. He wanted the life he'd tried to forget they promised. It didn't hurt anymore to think about her—not really. She was his happy place. She was his everything and she was _waiting_ for him even if she couldn't just hold still and wait for him to catch up.

He just had to go—_now_. His heart picked up, like it was recharged because his head had finally made a good decision and it was excited. He wasn't _waiting_ to go to London. Basically, his bags were packed, too. He was getting out of here. And it wasn't the starting of his greatest fear.

It was just the start of the rest of his life; he wasn't waiting anymore. It was starting now.


	33. Never Fail Me and Never Let Me Go

**A/N: ** So this is it - the last chapter. I hope you've all enjoyed reading it as much as I've enjoyed writing it. There's really not much more than that to say. Thank you for reading, thank you for supporting, and thank you for sticking with me through this really, really long story. Someone said in a review that it felt as though it was moving at a slow pace, so I hope you can look at the end now and see the progression from the beginning. Most of all, I hope it's been worth the read. I have some ideas in mind for a sequel, but please let me know what you think of this as it stands. It would mean the world to me.

**Songs/Disclaimer:** chapter title and most of the writing inspiration from **Sing Me Sweet **by **Matt Nathanson.** Finn's song is actually not written by him and is **Far Away **by **Nickelback. ** References to Rachel's song go back to the one that inspired this whole thing, **Replace Me **by **Andrew Belle**. I own none of these and no harm or infringement is intended. I also do not own Glee or these characters.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Thirty-Three: Never Fail Me and Never Let Me Go<strong>

Rachel sighed as she swiped the blush brush over her cheek one last time. This weekend was probably the longest time period since she'd left American soil that she'd gone without any sort of substantive conversation with Finn. She knew he was busy finishing up school and closing down that whole part of his life; plus he had been dealing with a demanding recording session that ended up being more than he'd bargained for. She got it, she really did. The more thought about it, the more she felt selfish because she just wanted him all to herself. She needed support, she wanted a partner, and she had totally set herself up for every bit of frustration she was feeling now.

That didn't make it any easier to put on a happy face and go to work, now did it?

She knew the writers—the rather atrocious husband and wife team Matt had selected—were there and had been at it for at least three hours. She had been very vague, only saying she would be in sometime around nine that morning; she was even running late for her non-specificity and she knew that was totally unlike her.

Then again, crashing on the couch with the phone in her hand (and only finally falling asleep at four in the morning) because she desperately wanted to hear from her boyfriend wasn't really advisable or in-character, either.

She replaced the brush in her makeup bag and stretched to reach the drawer that pulled out above the toilet. Water closet? Loo? She was not on board with the local vernacular just yet. She startled a little when the doorbell chimed and she dropped the whole bag in her surprise (thank God the toilet was closed, too, because apparently the zipper on the bag was feeling temperamental and the bag's contents dumped _everywhere_.)

So that was how she answered the door—frazzled, running late, and with foundation on her foot where the jar of powder had broken on contact with the floor.

She yanked the door open, wondering if she'd perfected her accent enough to tell the paperboy to _sod off_ yet, but instead, her mouth hung open. She blinked a couple of times and licked her lips before she could find words at all.

"Hi, Finn," she finally managed.

For his part, he just kind of stood there and took her in for a minute, looking like it was too good to be true she was actually standing in front of him.

She pulled the door open a little wider and then threw herself at him and he stumbled back with the force of her, but his hands smoothed over her hair where it fell down her back in waves and his face dropped enough to kiss the side of her head.

"What are you doing here?" She asked breathlessly. She could feel tears coming on and even if she didn't want to be that girl, she couldn't actually help that she _was_. Plus she was working on hardly any sleep.

"Well you're here…so I thought maybe I should be here, too." His hands were on her back and he leaned forward just enough to set her feet back on the ground. It wasn't like he had any intention of actually letting her go. She turned away to walk back into the apartment, but kept her hand in his to lead him inside and down the hallway to her 'reception room'. (She still hadn't gotten used to the fact that her living room had an honest-to-God _door_ on it. Her apartment in New York had been far more open than this space—and she wondered if it was commentary on American versus British attitudes. She wasn't getting into it just now.)

"You thought you should be here but you didn't think you should tell me you were coming?" She asked curiously. She was still crying out the surprise of seeing him; the sudden happiness and flood of good feelings that came from actually touching him and having his warm, real heartbeat underneath her fingertips—it was all just _too much_ in the best possible way. She wasn't mad in the slightest, but she was at least still with it enough to tease him a little.

"Well…Rach…"

There was something in his voice. She didn't know exactly what it was. Whatever the catch was, though, it made her turn and look at him. But it wasn't _bad_, exactly, so she didn't drop his hand. She kept playing with his fingers and reached up absently with her free hands to wipe her cheeks. "What?"

He sucked his lower lip into his mouth and bit at it a little as he studied her face. "I…I'm not leaving."

It was like even silence was too much for the room to handle; he swore he could hear something humming in his ears while he looked at her surprised face. He just couldn't tell if it was something good or bad. After he reached his hand up to rub at the back of his neck and she still hadn't moved, he had to say _something_.

"I mean…I guess I can leave if you don't want me here. But I'm pretty sure you do."

She didn't launch herself at him again, but her surprised expression gave way to a large smile and she took the two small steps necessary before she went up on her toes and her mouth found his. Her free hand caught up in his free hand and he finally had to drop her hands altogether so he could get an arm around her.

"Only _pretty sure_?" She asked, her voice muffled in his shirt and it made him laugh. He guided them over to the couch and dropped down with her still attached to him, and his leather bag slid to the floor with a rather loud thump.

He laughed and finally _really_ kissed her 'cause he just could wait to do it anymore; not when she was in his lap and moving against him and he could smell her and touch her and taste her.

She reluctantly pulled away from him enough to talk; she was breathing hard but it was going to turn into not breathing at all if she didn't take a small break from the kissing. "How is all of this even possible? I thought we were meeting in New York next week."

He gave a little shrug. "Well…how is it _not_ possible?" He had to try super hard not to smile at her stern glance when he answered her question with a question. He knew she hated that. "I just…once school was out and the demo was done I just…I didn't have any reason to stay in Ohio and I had every reason to come here. So I just sorta went with it."

She turned to straddle him and leaned in a little as her hands landed on the collar of his polo shirt. She nervously rubbed against it and settled on the part of his entire declaration—his entire presence—that he kind of thought she might. Then again, she focused on it while she was in his lap, so everything was fine.

"The demo is done? Can I hear it?"

He laughed and ran his hands over her hair on either side of her face so he could brush against her pretty, tan skin. "Yes it's done. Of course you can hear it."

"Okay," she agreed. She cupped his jaw in her hands, her finger tips already rubbing at his earlobes a little; between her touch and the way she was sitting and the way they'd been kissing, his pants were already a little uncomfortable. He fought the urge to shift underneath her, knowing that would make things worse. "But we'll do that in a minute. "

"Yeah, okay," he agreed, taking the opportunity to kiss her and who could blame him—she was _right_ there and it had been nearly three weeks since he'd even seen her. There was one thing he had to mention, though. He pulled barely back, his lips still rubbing against hers as he spoke. "When do you have to be to work?"

She pulled back a little more and he frowned, letting his hands slip down over her ass (so she couldn't go any further, because he thought she was already too far away.)

"Damn it!" She said. She scrambled off his lap and looked apologetic. "What time is it?"

He rubbed a hand over his face, laughing and shaking his head all at once. "I'm the way wrong person to ask. I'm not even sure what _day_ it is."

She settled back into his lap, straddling him and putting her hands on his shoulders. "When did you leave?"

He settled his hands back on her hips and let his eyes take her in. He really was pretty tired; sleeping on airplanes was not all it was cracked up to be for him because he barely fit in the chairs as it was, never mind if he slumped over somehow. "Like lunchtime yesterday."

"I would say you should get some sleep, but maybe I should take the day off." A slow smile spread across her face. "Then you could just spend the day in bed."

His smile spread with hers. "Can you just _do_ that? I wasn't expecting you to. I wasn't even sure if you'd be here."

"Well, they were having some problems on the script that caused problems with all the arrangements I've done for the first act. So the writers and the producer have supposedly been there since about six and I told them I'd be in around nine."

His eyes drifted closed and she knew he was doing the math in his head. But his eyes were shut for a long time and she kind of wondered if that meant he'd fallen asleep with her in his lap. (Wouldn't have been the first time. He tended to relax that much when she was touching him and wasn't…_touching_ him.)

"I give up," he finally said, maybe a little shyly. "What time is it?"

"Probably just about nine. I was running late."

"Where do you have to go?"

She bit her lip and smiled again. "Probably just into the bedroom to get my phone. I don't think it will break anyone's heart if I don't go today. They can just call and tell me about the changes they've made and I can work on the arranging here."

He rolled his eyes. "Okay, but where do you _actually_ go? I want to see where you work…where you live…" he dropped his voice down and raised an eyebrow at her. "…where you sleep."

It should've creeped her out, but it didn't at all. Plus, she could tell by the pink tinge to his cheeks that it embarrassed him he'd actually said it. "Well, if you're never leaving, we have plenty of time."

"Yeah," he agreed. "We have, like, _all_ of it."

"Okay," she said simply. She leaned forward and kissed his forehead and he clung to her a little more, closing his eyes and breathing her in. "Did you bring your demo in that bag?" She pointed.

"Yeah," he said. "Don't care about that so much at the moment." He pressed his lips against her neck. "Not when you're sitting in my lap saying you don't have somewhere to be."

She laughed. "Put it into my computer and I'll go call work." She kissed his forehead and disappeared before he could ask where her computer was.

He looked around the small room; the whole apartment was really not much bigger than a shoebox. He wondered how much of this was actually her dream –tiny apartment, foreign city, working long hours on a show she wasn't all that dedicated to. Then again, he also wondered if her lack of dedication had something to do with him. He knew they both had really hated being apart, even for a few weeks, 'cause it seemed like they'd been apart _enough_.

Still, whether it was her dream or not, there was something about the place that made it clear she lived here. The couch she'd picked out was a vibrant apple green color with pink and black striped pillows tucked into the corners, there was art on the wall (and something still wrapped that looked like maybe another painting of some sort resting on the ground next to the couch), and an electronic piano on the far side of the room where a television would've gone for anynormal person.

The space was relatively tidy, except around the piano it looked like maybe some sort of sheet music bomb had gone off. He had a feeling that's where she spent most of the time she was home. Opposite the couch, under the painting that was actually hung, was a small table with a chair on either side against the wall. The table didn't look like it had even been used.

He dragged himself up off the couch (it was super comfortable and he was super tired, so it took some work), picked up his bag, and walked in the direction he'd heard her go. Her bedroom was at the end of the hall, just across from the living room, and she was sitting on the end of the bed with her cell phone at her ear. He couldn't help it. Just seeing her there made him smile.

He glanced around this room too and he wondered if she had picked anything in here with him in mind; it was certainly less girly than the other room, with the crisp white bedding. The pillows on the queen-sized bed were blue and white plaid and all the wood was dark and shiny. There was a navy blue rug that spanned most of the room and covered the hardwood floor, but nothing else with any color. There was a desk on the far wall underneath the window; her laptop computer was sitting on the desk, open but with the power clearly off. The desk was a lot cleaner than her piano, and he smiled. It was the only thing in the bedroom that really seemed like Rachel. And honestly, the computer was the only sign of life in the room at all. Everything else was in its place; there were no personal pictures or clothes or…he had a feeling he was going to be in trouble really living with her. He wasn't a slob, exactly, but he wasn't _this_ clean, either.

He shook his head. He was getting _way _ahead of himself. They would just take it one day at a time. She hadn't actually agreed to anything, either, even if she'd been totally welcoming. He'd kind of dumped a lot on her and maybe she was right and he should've told her he was coming.

Then again, her face when she answered the door was _classic_.

He went to work figuring out how the hell to operate her computer (the button was in the hinge where the laptop folded closed—_really, _Gateway?). He figured it out though and managed to get into the software with a couple well-placed guesses; he kind of loved that her password was actually related to them, even if 'midnighttrain' wasn't that secure. He'd taught fifth graders about internet safety; he would have to have a chat with her about it, too.

But not now because she had set the phone down on her nightstand and was watching him work, her hand on his shoulder.

He leaned his head down to peck his lips against her fingers in a kiss while he got iTunes going. "Everything good with work?"

"Yes," she confirmed. She gave his shoulder a squeeze. "They're still rewriting anyway so he encouraged me to make a few specific changes." She stepped closer and brought her other hand to his other shoulder. "Finn, I'm so proud of you. I'm so excited to hear this—especially the one about me."

He almost grinned at her Rachel-like arrogance, but instead he swallowed hard and felt his first true wave of nerves with it. Truthfully, her opinion mattered more than anyone else's. Half the reason he wanted to play it for her now was so he could see her face when she heard it all. It was the same reason he'd waited to tell her he was still in love with her until he could actually see her reaction. And this time, there was an extra surprise on there for her because she didn't know he'd ended up singing lead for the song he wrote about them. He wanted to see her get it, even if he'd have to wait through the songs Brandon had written (and kicked ass on, honestly).

"I hope you like it," he said. He double clicked on the first of the three songs. His was the last song on the demo, so they had a few minutes of listening. He adjusted the volume on the speakers she had attached to the computer and then stood, turning to face her. "Listen carefully, 'cause I meant every word. Well…I'm sure Brandon means it for the other ones too, but…"

She smiled and took his hand, walking him the three (small) steps to the bed before she dropped down and then dragged her body up to the pillows. She tipped her head back to concentrate on the music that immediately filled the room. Naturally, he lay down next to her and started kissing up her neck to be as distracting as possible (and only partly because he _could _and he thought he would be taking advantage of that for a while).

But then she must've figured it out by a process of elimination because once his song started, she rested her hand on his chest and wiggled a little on the bed like she was trying to put distance between her body and his wandering lips.

There was only about ten seconds of music (which was some really solid guitar work of Josh's, honestly, and sounded awesome) before the vocals started. He had a hand on her stomach and he felt the muscles clench on the third word when she realized it was _him_ singing.

_This time, this place; misused, mistakes. Too long, too late, who was I to make you wait? Just one chance, just one breath, just in case there's just one left 'cause you know, you know, you know….That I love you, I have loved you all along. And I miss you, been far away for far too long. I keep dreaming you'll be with me and you'll never go…stop breathing if I don't see you anymore._

Her breath hitched and she rolled over to face him, attacking his lips with her own when the vocals slowed down a little. He slid his hands up her back and pulled her close. She slipped her leg up over his, hooking her thigh on his hip. He relaxed his leg so his thigh rubbed against her and she pressed right back. He kind of thought he might die right there. It was totally unreal that they were even here; she was grinding on him and they were listening to his voice rolling over them. (And by unreal, he meant a little weird and he was trying really hard not to pause her for just a second so he could turn the song off.)

_On my knees, I'll ask, last chance for one last dance, 'cause with you I'd withstand all of hell to hold your hand. I'd give it all, give for us, give everything but I won't give up; 'cause you know, you know, you know…That I love you, I have loved you all along. And I miss you, been far away for far too long. I keep dreaming you'll be with me and you'll never go—stop breathing if I don't see you anymore_

Her tears were mixing with her kisses and he was glad maybe his song had provoked some kind of reaction in her since _her_ song had literally changed his life._ She_ had changed him and, even with all the uncertainty that came with just landing on her doorstep, he felt like he was better and stronger and…and he wanted her to know this song was just the first step. He had poured everything into it and now he was getting everything in return. She was everything to him.

_So far away, so far away, been far away for far too long; So far away, so far away, been far away for far too long…But you know, you know, you know…_

Her hands danced around his belt and he tugged at the bottom of her shirt and they both pulled away laughing just a little because that was clearly not going to work. He rolled on his back and she climbed onto him, working on his pants and he lifted his hips up to help her, but as soon as she reached his knees with the fabric, he pulled her back up toward him and yanked her shirt off a little roughly.

_I wanted, I wanted you to stay, 'cause I'm needing…I need to hear you say "I love you, I have loved you all along. And I forgive you for being away for far too long." _

She pulled back enough she could see his face and smiled. "Nice job on that key change," she noted and it made him laugh.

"Thanks?" He accepted with a shake of his head. He was just going to have to turn it off. He had more important things to do and she could listen later. Like while he was in the shower or somewhere else, because it seemed like maybe the kind of reaction his song provoked was she wanted to jump him. He wasn't complaining, he just wanted a different soundtrack.

"I love you," she said. She tugged at the bottom of his shirt. He sat up enough she could pull it off. "I've loved you all along."

_So keep breathing, 'cause I'm not leaving you anymore. Believe it, hold onto me and never let me go_

_Keep breathing 'cause I'm not leaving you anymore. Believe it, hold onto me and never let me go. Hold onto me and never let me go. Hold onto me and never let me go._

He wondered if she could see his heart beating through his shirt. It was fucking pounding, and it was his reaction to her reaction and how in the hell had they not done this after her first song? Or really, after her second song.

"I forgive you for being away for far too long," she choked out and that was it – he _had _to kiss her. He just…he had to. And once he started kissing her, it wasn't like he was going to stop. He flicked her bra open (this one clasped in front, but...well…) with his typical dexterity for that sort of thing and she pulled back to smirk a little. "Okay, it was way too long we were apart and I don't think I'm ever going to get used to that."

"We'll just have to practice a lot," he said simply, his boxer-clad center pressing against her hip as she slid the bra off her arms.

"Okay," she agreed, breathing just as hard as him. "Can we listen to your song again? I love your voice."

"Later," he said. They'd already stopped kissing for too long. He pressed his fingers into her hips at either side, hooking them through her underwear and tugging them away from her body. "I'm kinda busy right now."

"Yeah, definitely not worth interrupting," she agreed. She mirrored his actions, peeling his shorts away from his body. "Welcome home, babe."

He groaned a little bit as he settled back in between her thighs. "Thanks," he finally managed, his voice choked by about a hundred different things all at once. If he was honest with himself, and there was always at least a split second of that when he slid into her body, he could barely believe they were here. He was in her bed and they were together and it had all happened so fast. It was almost too good to be true.

He stayed still for a second until she was breathing again and moving against him and then he moved back against her, rocking his hips in time with her and kissing her all at once. She hooked her thighs over his hips again and he pressed deeper into her, finally having to drop his head to her shoulder because he couldn't concentrate on anything except their rhythm, the way she felt so warm and real underneath him and all around him. She surrounded him in all the important ways and he was pretty sure he'd never get enough of the feeling.

He intertwined his fingers in hers, catching both her hands from his sides and pinning them above her head. He felt her stretch out, and she let out a breathy moan as her legs relaxed and pressed into his a little differently. It totally changed everything and all of a sudden, he was _right_ there. He pulled his face away from her neck to look at her. She had her eyes closed, biting her lip. Her cheeks were pink, her skin was a little sweaty, and her hair was everywhere. He dropped one of her hands for just a second to brush her hair off her forehead.

She dragged her eyes open and looked at him. He smiled slowly when he remembered her words about wanting a naked middle-of-sex marriage proposal. She was so…just…she was so perfect and so _his_. He didn't need to propose or anything; not right now. Right now, he just wanted to make her lose it.

He kind of wanted her to yell his name.

He slowed their thrusts down as he replaced his hand in hers above her head and then rocked his hips into her suddenly, more forcefully than he'd been doing. Something in the way she was looking at him changed then, too, and he did it again. Backed out slowly, pressed into her slowly and then added a shorter, harder push. She gasped, her mouth dropping open.

"Again," she said. He wasn't in the mood to argue. The fourth one got her close but it was the fifth one that made a total mess out of her, and she pressed her head back into the pillow and called his name breathlessly as he kissed at the column of her throat. She tugged him over the edge with her and he might've bitten her a little when he came. Their fingers were so tangled and holding each other so tightly neither of them could feel their fingertips and he collapsed against her after he was finished.

They stayed there, just breathing, until he felt like he could move enough to pull down her neatly-made comforter. They both climbed under and he pulled her against him, unwilling to break the contact for any length of time. Her ringing phone kind of pulled them out of their perfect, happy moment and she sighed as she sat up to answer it. He kissed her shoulder and rubbed his hand over her back when he got out of the bed. Between the long plane right and the train ride and the …other stuff…he wanted a shower. He wanted a shower _with her_.

She leaned into him as he kissed her and looked over with a frown to watch him getting out bed. He _knew _he'd left his bag beside her desk chair but it was gone now. He looked at her questioningly, and without a word (he could hear her producer's voice through the phone and, just based on the tone, he totally wanted to hurt that guy) she pointed toward the closet.

There was a warm, almost fuzzy feeling in his veins right now. He hadn't ever really messed around with drugs, but he'd heard it described that way; maybe Rachel was his drug. But when she pointed so casually toward the closet, where _she_ had put his bag like that was where it belonged, the feeling almost exploded. She wanted to keep him here. He belonged here. It was good—or something lots better than good—to know she felt the same way.

He just decided to make himself at home while she was on the phone (fingers crossed he could get her in the shower after her call) and found the kitchen to get a drink. He had to laugh at how neat it was; there wasn't even a single water drop on the aluminum surfaces and he knew it was because she never actually used her kitchen. It was curiosity more than anything else that made him look through her cupboards (well, okay. Partly trying to find a glass for a drink of water and partly to see if there was actually anything in her cupboards); it was another warm burst of familiarity that prompted him to make her a bowl of microwave popcorn.

She was just hanging up when he appeared in her bedroom with her favorite after-sex snack and she smiled widely at him.

"How did you…what…"

"I know it's hard to believe, but I remember things," he said simply. He sat down on the edge of the bed right beside her and handed her the bowl. "Especially _this_ kinda thing."

"Well, do you remember how to make musical gold like the song I just listened to? Because I think I'm going to need some help with the song I'm working on for the show. I just got a lecture about all the ways in which it wasn't adequate and…honestly…it's the fifth time I've done a major reworking on it and…"

"You want my help?" He asked. "Your songs are amazing, Rachel. You don't need help."

She pushed the bowl of popcorn at him and bit her lip. "Thank you, but…but I think you can make it better. You make _me_ better."

It was kinda awkward, because how could he possibly respond to that (besides, like, sexing her up again or something?) So even though what she said made him feel good, he was glad she excused herself from the room. He settled back into the blankets—it hadn't escaped his attention that the popcorn making and the phone call and the stuff retrieving were all happening while they were still _naked_—and waited to see what she was bringing. He had a second to wonder if they would be those people who just walked around naked when they were home. It was a good subject to debate, he thought. Obviously he was pro-naked.

She came back in with a spiral notebook and two pens in her hand, then bent over her desk to get something else out. It was pretty obvious she was cold, and she snuggled up next to him quickly. He did not argue.

"What's this?" He said.

"Well…" she started. She produced her iPod and handed him an earbud. "This is the song I need to work on. I'm assuming you haven't listened to the Tangled movie soundtrack, though."

He laughed a little as he tucked the headphone into his ear while she was doing the same. She queued the song up and hit play, then dropped the open notebook in his lap while he listened and looked at her notes for possible revisions.

They continued on that way into the afternoon, listening, making notes, scribbling on the paper in front of them both for work purposes and writing silly things like they'd done once upon a time in high school when they _were_ two kids in love.

She knew she usually took it too far, thinking metaphors were important. She had learned that life was sometimes more straight-forward, but being with him was too much to pass up as a metaphor.

Once upon a time, she had written a song about a boy. She had written it all down, had written him a letter, and had hoped with everything in her that he would remember: he would remember _her_, he would remember _who he was_, and he would remember_ them_and all they could be. She had written a song to remind him. And then she left him and she'd been looking back ever since.

He had remembered everything and written a song to absolve her of all her guilt and her hurt for the mistakes she'd made and the things she'd lost when she ran away. He'd written her a song to remind her of all they could be, too, but his was even more important because it was about all that they were now.

And on a sunny afternoon in her—_their—_bedroom (that would take some getting used to), it seemed fitting they were finally coming together to write a song. She wondered what it would be and what it would say when they were done. She wondered what would come next and she finally shook it off.

In her song and in her life she'd told him if he would fall, she would fall, too. He had finally listened and she had kept her promise in return. She was all done looking back at the metaphors and the mistakes.

She couldn't wait to hear _their_ song (or their _songs_ because she knew there would be more than one) for herself. It was going to be some of their best work.


	34. Just a Little Note

So… just in case anyone is interested, I'm starting up the sequel to this one. It's called **We All Play Our Part** and you can find it under my profile if you don't already have me on author alert or anything.

I have lots of fun plans for it and I hope y'all like what's in store. Thanks again for all the support for this story!


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